Sympathy for the Jersey Devil
by YankeeFan87
Summary: Set in season 2, just after BUABS. Dean and Sam, mentally and physically exhausted, take on a case in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, where they're told that the Jersey Devil has been hunting and killing tourists. Hurt!Dean coming right up...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Don't own the Winchesters or anything Supernatural-related. Title taken from the song "Sympathy for the Devil" by the Rolling Stones.

**A/N: Couldn't stay away too long...this story is more of a case-fic than my others were. Takes place in Jersey, cause that's what I know best. Time line is shortly after Born Under a Bad Sign, so there are spoilers up to and including that episode. I probably won't be able to update this one as quickly as I did Find Your Way Back, but I may work harder the more convincing (and prolific) your reviews are...(hint hint). Neways, I hope you enjoy!  
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**Summary: Set in season 2, a few weeks after Born Under a Bad Sign. Dean and Sam, mentally and physically exhausted from the events of the last year, take on a case in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, where they're told that the Jersey Devil has been hunting and killing tourists. Hurt!Dean, coming right up...**

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Chords from AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" pounded through the speakers of the small roadside bar as Sam watched his brother defeat yet another poor sap at darts. _He's really cleaning up tonight_ Sam thought as Dean pocketed his winnings, smiling and flirting with the girls who had become enthralled with his performance.

Sam took a sip from his beer, looking down at the newspapers that he'd spread in front of him on the table. The brothers had stopped in Philadelphia after their last hunt, a relatively simple salt and burn involving a ghost at one of the dorms in Villanova. But that was the only thing that had been easy lately and Sam had been pressing Dean to let them take a break, just _stop_ for a little while. The last few months had been hard on both of them.

Sam looked at Dean again, frowning when he saw him put a hand to his left shoulder, wincing slightly as he tried to rub a knot out of it. It had only been a few weeks since Sam had been possessed by Meg and Sam was having a hard time forgiving himself for what he'd done to his brother. Dean constantly told him to forget it, insisting that it _wasn't him. _But it was hard to forget, especially when he knew that Dean was still in pain from the bullet wound Meg had inflicted, could see it reflected in Dean's face whenever he let his mask slip.

And it wasn't just the physical pain either. Sam had heard what Meg had said to Dean about their father, about hell. If the issue hadn't been eating at Dean enough already, Meg's confirmation that John was in hell, suffering so that Dean could live, only added to Dean's guilt. Of course, he would never tell Sam how he was feeling. _Gonna have to make him talk sooner or later_, Sam decided, just as a round of clapping resounded through the bar. Sam looked up to see Dean collecting more money from his latest opponent, acknowledging the cheers coming from the crowd of onlookers that had gathered around him.

Sam caught Dean's eyes and Dean smirked back at him, saying something to one of the girls and then heading over to where Sam sat.

"You looked like you were doing pretty well," Sam remarked.

"_Pretty_ well?" Dean held up a wad of bills. "Five hundred bucks, my brother. We're eating steak tonight."

Sam smiled at that. Sure, the fake credit cards allowed them to pay for room and board, but it was always nice to have real money.

Dean took a sip from his beer and pointed to the newspapers Sam had been looking at. "You find anything weird in there?"

"Not really, man. At least not our kind of weird."

Dean nodded, thinking. "I guess we can look a little harder tomorrow." Dean made a move to go back to the bar when Sam spoke up.

"Do we have to?" Sam asked, a pleading tone to his voice. Dean looked up at that and Sam continued. "I just mean, can't we take a break? I feel like we've been running on empty these last few months. Ever since dad…" he trailed off. Still couldn't force himself to talk about their dad's death. "And _you_ were the one who had suggested we take a break. Back in Oregon," Sam reminded him, thinking back to the day when Dean had told him of his promise to their father to _save Sammy._

Dean's face softened a little. "I know. I _do,_" he insisted at Sam's skeptical look. "But I…" he paused, searching for the words. "I just feel like I need to be _doing_ something now, you know?" Sam waited. "Saving people…it's all I've known. And I can't just stop. Not right now at least." Sam heard the unspoken, _not while Dad's in hell because of me._

Sam shook his head, frustration warring with sympathy. He looked at Dean, saw the raw pain on his face, the pleading look he was giving him. Sympathy won out. "Fine," Sam grumbled. "We'll look tomorrow." He saw the look of relief that flashed across Dean's face. "But we're only taking a job if it really seems legitimate, okay? And only if people are _really_ in danger."

Dean nodded. He could live with those terms for the time being. "Yeah, sure," he responded._ No point in arguing with Sam now_, Dean thought as his attention returned to the girls who were still gushing over his _heroic_ darts performance. They were beckoning for Dean to come back. "Let me know when you wanna leave, Sammy. I'm gonna go play a few more games," he told him, wandering back over to his eager fans.

By the time Sam was ready to go, Dean had won an additional two hundred dollars. He had also consumed a fair amount of alcohol and was feeling _pretty_ good. Sam had to help his inebriated brother to the car, depositing him unceremoniously in the passenger side of the Impala, all the while reassuring him that he was, indeed, the world's greatest big brother.

In the five minutes it had taken Sam to drive to the motel that the brothers were staying at, Dean had passed out, snoring softly against the window. Sam was able to rouse him long enough to get him into the room and deposit him on the bed, but Dean was out again almost immediately. Sam tugged off his boots and threw a blanket over his prone form. _Hope it was worth it, bro_, he thought, knowing he'd be hurting in the morning. Sam shut off the light and fell into a deep sleep, trying his best to forget about demons and hell and his brother's promise.

* * *

Sam awoke just as the sun was coming up, feeling more refreshed than he had in quite awhile. He heard the water running in the bathroom and noticed the blanket that Dean had discarded on the floor. Sam was mildly surprised that Dean was up already until he heard the sounds of retching coming from the bathroom. _That's why_, Sam thought as he rubbed the remains of sleep from his eyes and made his way over to the bathroom.

Dean looked up at Sam from his perch beside the toilet, misery plastered on his face as he groaned softly. And Sam was _this_ tempted to feel bad for him. But then the memories of his night of drinking at the Pierpont Inn came back to him and he changed his mind. "You know there's a really good hangover remedy," he started, a smile creeping onto his face as he saw the recognition cross Dean's face. "It's a greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray," he finished, relishing the groan of disgust that Dean offered in reply.

"I hate you," he muttered, echoing Sam's own response to that advice. Dean closed his eyes as he felt another wave of nausea wash over him. "Man, what they _hell_ did I drink last night?"

"Dunno," Sam replied honestly, stepping into the bathroom and wetting a wash cloth for his brother. "You were the hit of the night though. Everyone wanted to buy you a shot. Apparently you were more than willing to accept."

"_Bad_ idea," Dean asserted, swallowing thickly. He gratefully took the wash cloth from Sam, holding it against his forehead, trying to ease the pounding headache. He sat on the floor for a few minutes, waiting for the room to stop spinning. When he felt steady enough to get up, he reached out for the hand that Sam was offering and stood slowly, stumbling back into the room to sit on his still-made bed.

Sam looked over at his brother whose eyes were squeezed shut again. "Want some Tylenol?" he asked, and Dean nodded tightly. Sam grabbed a glass of water and a few pills and handed them to Dean, who gratefully swallowed them down. "It's still early, Dean. Why don't you try and sleep for a bit? I'll go out and get some newspapers and coffee." Dean nodded, scooting back on the bed and lying down. "Call me if you need anything," Sam told him, grabbing the Impala's keys and opening the door. The only response he got was Dean's steady breathing.

Sam returned an hour later to find Dean in the same position he had left him, snoring softly against the pillows. Sam had sat in the little cafe down the street from the motel, drinking coffee and reading the paper, enjoying the constant bustle of people. He still hadn't found anything that he deemed hunt-worthy, but then he hadn't been looking all that hard, despite what Dean had insisted. Sam had headed back to the room after he'd finished his coffee, deciding he and Dean could stop at a diner for breakfast and coffee once his brother was awake, thus neglecting to bring Dean back his own coffee. Sam settled down with some more newspapers at the little table in the motel and waited for Dean to wake up.

Dean began stirring around 10:30 and Sam looked up as he rubbed a hand across his sweaty face. "Ugh," he said, gingerly pulling himself into a sitting position, his hair sticking up in all directions.

"Feel better?" Sam asked, putting down the newspaper he'd been reading.

"No," Dean replied shortly. "Ugh," he repeated and Sam smirked at him.

"You learn your lesson, dude?" he asked him, knowing Dean would be pissed that he was treating him like a 5-year-old. But hey, what did he expect?

"I learned that I'm _awesome_ at darts," Dean retorted, "and an idiot," he added as he pressed his fingers against his temples.

"Uh huh," Sam agreed. "Why don't you get dressed? We can head over to the local diner in a bit," Sam suggested.

Dean looked like he was going to object, but nodded anyway. "I'm gonna shower," he said instead, "I feel gross."

"And brush your teeth!" Sam shouted at him as he slammed the door to the bathroom shut.

Dean came out of the shower fifteen minutes later looking and feeling decidedly better than he had when he'd gotten up. He agreed to go to breakfast with Sam and the two headed out, walking the short distance to the diner Sam had mentioned earlier. Their waitress, Jolene, was the sweet, motherly type and immediately took to the boys when she saw them walk in. Sam was always amused by the way he and Dean were often treated by their older waitresses, like the women just _knew_ the boys needed someone to take care of them.

Jolene placed the menus down in front of the brothers, already filling up their mugs with coffee before they'd even asked for it. Sam smiled at that, thanking her. "I could tell you needed it," she explained. Sam laughed softly, knowing she was referring to Dean. "Do you know what you boys want or would you like a few more minutes?"

"I'll have a short stack of pancakes," Sam answered immediately. "And a western omelet," he added when he felt his stomach rumbling at the thought of real food.

Jolene nodded, turning her focus to Dean, "And you, Sweetie?"

"Can I also have the pancakes?" he asked, "and a side of bacon." Jolene took their menus, assuring them she'd be back in a jiffy.

"So still no hunts?" Dean asked after a few minutes. Sam frowned at Dean's unrelenting desire to find a hunt.

"Nah," Sam said halfheartedly. "You can help me look after breakfast." Dean seemed satisfied with that answer and the two sat in companionable silence for the next few minutes until Jolene bustled back to their tables holding two steaming plates.

"Smells delicious," Sam said enthusiastically. Dean just nodded his thanks.

"Let me know if I can get you two anything else," Jolene told them and hurried back to the kitchen once Sam had reassured her that they were fine for now.

Sam devoured his breakfast, eating like he'd been starved for weeks. He looked over at Dean who had approached his breakfast far less ravenously and who now had a hand against his head again.

"You okay man?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Stupid hangover," Dean answered. "I'm never drinking again."

Sam smiled. "Sureee," he drawled.

Dean managed to eat a little more than half of his breakfast, letting Sam finish the bacon which was just too greasy for him to stomach at the moment. Dean threw down a few bills from the giant wad he'd won the night before and the two got up and walked back to the motel.

* * *

Sam was seated at the bed, searching the internet for hunts while Dean scoured the newspapers. Sam was pretty sure Dean wasn't actually reading the papers since every time he'd looked over at him, Dean had been pressing his hands against his forehead. Sam was just about to say something when Dean got up from the table, heading quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

Sam waited a few minutes before getting up to check on Dean who was still in the process of puking up his breakfast. He knocked once, slowly opening the door and stepping into the bathroom. The scene was a near facsimile of the one from that morning, only this time Sam did find himself feeling sympathetic for his brother. _That had to be one mother of a hangover._

Sam crouched down next to his brother. "You okay, man?" he asked.

"Nngh," Dean responded. "Shoot me now."

Sam chuckled a little. "Don't think so, brother. You done in here?" Dean nodded slightly. "Okay barf boy, let's get you back to the bed," Sam said, helping Dean stand. The two stumbled to Dean's bed and Sam deposited him there. "No more research for you today," Sam said, looking critically at his brother, "just sleep it off, okay?"

Dean wanted to protest but he knew Sam was right. So instead he closed his eyes and willed himself to fall asleep, hoping the pounding headache would be gone when he awoke.

Sam kept surfing the internet for a few hours before he felt his eyes drooping shut. He closed his eyes, intending to open them in a few minutes. Instead, he was jolted awake by the ringing of his cell phone a good two hours later. He looked over at Dean who was still in a dead sleep. Checking the caller ID, Sam saw that it was Bobby, and he stood up and walked to the door of the motel room before picking up.

"Hey Bobby," Sam said warmly, still feeling indebted to the hunter after all he'd done for him and Dean. Heck, if Meg hadn't made Sam go to Bobby's after her rendezvous with Jo, it was likely that she would still be inside him. Sam shuddered at the thought.

"Hey Sam," Bobby answered back, and Sam noticed that his voice seemed less tense than it had the last time they'd talked to him, after he'd told them that Steve Wandell's buddies were looking for someone to string up for his murder. "How are you boys doing?"

Sam looked back at Dean. "We've been better," he answered honestly. "It's been a tough few weeks."

"Dean okay?" Bobby asked, concern seeping into his voice.

"More or less," Sam answered. "Right now he's sleeping off a hangover though."

Bobby snorted at that. "Kid did always love his liquor." He waited a beat. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that Wandell's buddies haven't been able to find diddly-squat at the crime scene. And they seem to be giving up their head hunting for the time being."

Sam let out a sigh of relief. _Finally, some good news_. "That's great, Bobby. Thanks for the heads up."

"No problem. Oh, another thing. Last time I talked to Dean he said you two were headed to the east coast. You still there?"

"Yeah, we're in Philly now. Just finished up a case."

"Philly, huh? Well I may have a hunt near there, if you're up for it." He waited for Sam to answer.

"Dean'd kill me if I turned you down," Sam responded, though Bobby could hear the weariness in his voice.

"Boy's not letting up, is he?" Bobby asked.

"Nah, you know him. But it's okay, I'll get him to stop eventually. This is what he wants right now though."

Bobby waited a few seconds and Sam thought he wasn't going to continue. "If you say so. Anyway, the case is in New Jersey. The Pine Barrens, to be more specific."

Sam thought he knew where this was going but he let Bobby continue.

"I don't know how much your daddy told you about the Jersey Devil legend, but it seems as though there have been a bunch of recent sightings of a big, flying, horse-like creature with glowing red eyes."

"Red eyes?" Sam repeated.

"Yeah, I know. But it's already killed three tourists in the last month alone."

"_Crap_."

"Yeah, nasty creature. Anyway, could be a wendigo, could be a werewolf. Or it may just be a plain old, non-supernatural animal killing people. Or it could be the Jersey Devil. But I got a few calls from some friends who wanted to see if I had someone who could check it out."

"Okay," Sam said, mulling over the situation. "Can I get back to you in a little? I want to talk to Dean first and he may be out for a couple hours."

"Of course. And tell that brother of yours to slow down." Bobby added warmly.

"I will. Thanks, Bobby. I'll talk to you soon."

"Bye Sam."

_Looks like Dean got his wish_, Sam thought wryly as he looked down at his peacefully sleeping brother. _Dammit_.

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_Hope you're liking where this is going. Please review and let me know!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to those of you who reviewed! Okay disclaimer about the Jersey Devil now. There are a lot of different versions of the legend out there, so I just kinda combined a bunch...and made some stuff up to fit my own story. So if things sound a little different from what you may have heard in the past, that's why. This chapter was hard to write cause it was a whole lot of exposition and not a lot of action, which I prefer a lot more. But it was necessary to set up the rest of the story. Next few chapters will be much more fun. Thanks for reading and please review! **

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Dean slept straight through the day, not waking up until 8 that evening. He rubbed his eyes, thankful that the headache had almost disappeared. He looked over at Sam who was hunched over his computer at the table. "Hey," he grunted, his voice hoarse. Sam looked over at him, amused.

"Hey man," Sam got up and brought a bottle of water over to his brother. "_Now_ you feeling better?"

Dean scooted up so he was leaning against the head board, taking a long sip from the water bottle Sam had handed him. "Much better," he said with complete honesty. "That sucked."

Sam just smirked back at him. "I bet."

Dean looked over at the table Sam had been working at, seeing pages of notes scrawled in Sam's near-indecipherable handwriting. "You found a hunt," Dean said, more a statement than a question.

Sam hesitated a second, but knew he'd have to tell Dean sooner or later. "Bobby called."

"What'd he say?" Dean asked, his curiosity piqued.

"First off he thinks we're in the clear from Steve Wandell's buddies," Sam saw Dean visibly relax at that. "Also he thinks there may be a hunt in the Pine Barrens of New Jersey. There've been several 'Jersey Devil' sightings in the past few months. Not to mention several tourist deaths."

"Shit," Dean breathed. "The Jersey Devil? Really?"

"Well Bobby seemed skeptical, thinks it may just be a wendigo or something," Sam stopped when he saw Dean smiling. "Why are you grinning?"

"Dad," Dean said, a bit self-consciously. "He and I made a few trips up the east coast while you were at Stanford. He used to tell me stories about the Pine Barrens. Said there was no such thing as the Jersey Devil."

Sam found himself smiling too, reveling in his brother's memories of their father. He cleared his throat. "Either way, people are still dying and the circumstances seem pretty mysterious. I think I already know your answer, but do you want to check it out?"

"Definitely," Dean told him.

Sam went out to pick up pizza while Dean was showering again. When he got back he found Dean looking at the notes he'd been taking.

"When did you learn cuneiform, Sam?"

Sam looked at him, confused. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"This chicken scratch you call writing. It looks more like shapes than it does letters."

"Shut up," Sam grumbled in mock annoyance, setting the pizza boxes down on the table next to his notes.

"Well you're going to have to tell me what you've found out because I can't make heads or tails of your notes."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam replied. "Let's just eat first."

* * *

Sam called Bobby after they'd finished eating, figuring he'd see if the older hunter had any more information about the hunt.

"So Dean's on board?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah, not that I'm surprised. Anyway, do you have any more intel you can give us? Supposing it is the Jersey Devil, is there _anything_ out there on how to kill it?"

"I'm going to have to do a little more research to figure that out, Sam," Bobby told him. "But as far as I know, most hunters don't believe the Jersey Devil exists. You can try the usual tricks – silver bullets, holy water, rock salt. Prepare for everything, boy."

Sam agreed, liking the idea of this hunt less and less the more he talked to Bobby about it.

Noticing Sam's reluctance, Bobby added, "It's probably not the Jersey Devil, Sam."

"Yeah, you're probably right. Okay Bobby, thanks for your help. I think I'll do a little more research before hitting the sack. Dean and I will head out in a day or two."

"Speaking of Dean, could you put him on for me?"

Sam smiled, knowing that Bobby was going to let Dean have it. "Course Bobby. Hang on." He handed the phone to Dean who was sitting at the laptop. Sam couldn't hear Bobby's side of the conversation, but what he observed from Dean's end was enough to make him grin. Dean looked at Sam sheepishly after he'd hung up the phone.

"He yell at you?" Sam asked, amused.

"More or less," Dean answered him. "He told me to listen to _you_. Yeah right." Dean tossed the cell phone at Sam who just barely managed to react in time to catch it. "Okay, Geekboy. What've you got?"

Sam gathered up his notes and took a seat on the foot of his bed.

"Well first off, what do you already know about it? Did Dad tell you anything?"

Dean nodded, thinking for a minute. "He told me bits and pieces of the legend but nothing too specific. He didn't think it was necessary to elaborate – said he was sure it was a wendigo or a black dog."

Sam paused before going on. "If Dad thought there was a wendigo in Jersey, why the hell wouldn't he go kill it? Or send someone else to kill it?" Sam couldn't believe their dad would simply let such a creature live. He slowed down his barrage of questioning when he saw Dean glaring at him.

"You know Dad, Sam. He was tight-lipped about a lot of stuff. And I never bothered to ask him about that," Dean admitted. "I'm sure he had his reasons though. Hell, I don't know for sure that he _didn't _hunt it." Dean waited a second, staring hard at Sam. "But we can't ask him now, can we?" he finished, the last part of the question tinged with pain.

That shut Sam up. "Sorry man, I didn't really think that one through I guess."

Dean snorted, accepting Sam's apology. "Just continue with your damn story," he instructed, not unkindly.

Sam nodded again. "Right. Okay, well I literally researched the Jersey Devil for hours. There's a lot of lore on the internet about it. Some stories conflict, but I'll just give you the most common theories." Dean nodded and Sam continued. "Legend has it that back in the 1700s a Deborah Smith emigrated here from England in order to marry Joseph Leeds. The Leeds family was one of New Jersey's earliest settlers and they were prominent in the Pine Barren region, which included Leeds Point, Galloway Township, and Atlantic County – all in the southern part of New Jersey. Back then the Pine Barrens were filled with vast, swampy forests and sandy soil. Very rough terrain." Sam looked up to make sure Dean was following, continuing when he was satisfied that his brother didn't have any questions yet.

"The Leeds family lived on Leeds Point – an area named for their ancestors. Mother Leeds, as she was called, went on to have 12 children – not all by the same man. By the time she was pregnant with her 13th child, she was sick and tired of it all. Supposedly she complained to her friends and relatives that the 'Devil can take the next one."

"And He did," Dean said aloud.

Sam nodded. "That's one theory. Another claims that she invoked the devil while she was actually giving birth by saying the words 'let it be the devil,' just before the child was born. Whichever version you believe, the end result is the same. Mother Leeds gave birth to a baby boy, but seconds after it was born it transformed into a hideous creature, horribly deformed with horns, a tail, wings, and a horse-like head. It immediately flew away into the Jersey skies, emitting a harsh, high-pitched screeching wail."

Dean shuddered. "That's creepy."

"You're telling me. Here, look at this," Sam motioned for Dean to give him the computer, pulling up one of the pictures of the Jersey Devil that he'd bookmarked. "This is the most popular rendering of the thing." Sam tilted the screen towards Dean. The picture showed a giant creature, its head, body, and hind legs resembling those of a horse. The front legs looked like they belonged to some kind of wolf with long, sharp claws, and the creature's tail was long and forked. The wings, however, were the most incongruent aspect of the being, and they made it look that much more menacing, leaving no doubt that this was some kind of otherworldly monster.

"Shit," Dean breathed. "_Very_ fugly. So then when did the Jersey Devil start terrorizing the townspeople?"

"Not right away. People would hear the devil screeching and sometimes catch a glimpse of it flying through the trees, but it pretty much stayed away from the town. The only person it did appear to was Mother Leeds. Supposedly it constantly revisited her in the vain hope that she would take it back. But every day, she told it to leave. After awhile it disappeared, and no one – Mother Leeds included – saw it for months."

"Jeez."

"Yeah I know. Kinda depressing. Almost makes you feel bad for the thing."

"Almost," Dean agreed. "So what? It started terrorizing people because its mother abandoned it?"

"That's one possibility. Another is the way it was treated by the townspeople – like it was the devil himself. Anyway, it started with little things. Livestock started disappearing, then dogs, geese, and cats."

"For what? Food?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe. Or maybe to get back at the people for the way they were treating it. Anyway, at that point there was really no denying it was a monster. And then it started taking children."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Any child who was outside after dark had the chance of getting taken. And they never saw the kids again."

"No bodies?" Dean didn't know what would be worse – finding your child torn to shreds or never seeing him or her again, never knowing what had happened.

Sam looked back at his notes. "They did find the remains of some of the animals but they never found the children's bodies. And after the first few were taken, families made sure to keep their kids inside at all times. The people of the Pine Barrens were living in fear."

"Well if that was the case, then why didn't they just leave the area? If the creature was only terrorizing the people of the Pine Barrens, why didn't they just _leave_ the Pine Barrens."

Sam shook his head, agreeing with Dean's logic. "I guess they didn't want to uproot their families? I don't know, doesn't make much sense to me either. Anyway, they_ did_ seek help. In 1740, after the Jersey Devil had been terrifying people in the Pine Barrens for more than five years, the people of Leeds Point decided to try an exorcism."

"An exorcism?" Dean asked. He hadn't been expecting that one. "Well if it _was_ some kind of demon, I guess that would work," he reasoned.

Sam nodded. "I imagine that was the thinking back then too. So the town priest and a number of the men gathered in the woods one evening to try this 'cleansing' ritual. I'm a little unclear on the details here, but from what I can gather, it appears that the exorcism _was_ successful, but it was only powerful enough to banish the creature for 100 years."

Dean frowned. "That's something I haven't heard before."

"Yeah, but the Jersey Devil doesn't exactly fit the profile of any creature we've hunted in the past. Maybe a normal exorcism wasn't strong enough? Either way, it was more or less successful."

"What do you mean more or less?" Dean asked, skeptical.

"Well the people were basically left alone over that time period. There _were_ a few isolated sightings and people still heard the screeching every now and then, but the animals and children were left alone."

"So then what happened after the 100 years were up?"

"The Jersey Devil came back, and he was more violent than before. He didn't just take children anymore. Now, he took adults as well, dragging them off to his lair and killing him for no reason other than the fact that he could. Bodies would be found torn to shreds or trampled to death, all signs that the Jersey Devil had gotten to them. 1909 marked the year when the most people witnessed the devil. Thousands spotted footprints or saw the creature in the skies, carrying off his prey or searching for more. Schools were closed in order to protect the children and men and women stayed inside as much as possible."

Sam looked over at his brother who was watching him closely, his attention rapt. Sam smiled, amused at that, and continued. "Then, after a year of terrorizing people, the Jersey Devil wasn't seen again until 1927. And even after that, sightings of the devil grew scarcer and scarcer. Though there have been certain years when Jersey Devil sightings have spiked, nothing has compared to the occurrences between 1740 and 1909."

Sam paused, and Dean voiced the question that both of them were thinking. "So then why is it back now?"

"Dunno. Bobby doesn't seem to have any clue either. But this seems to be as bad – or worse – than the 1909 killings."

"And the bodies of the victims," Dean started. "I mean, did they find bodies this time?"

"Yep. Just like the 1909 killings, these victims were pretty much torn to shreds. But get this." Sam shuffled through his notes, pulling out a sketch he'd drawn from one of the descriptions of the dead. "Some of the bodies have also been found with _hoof prints_ on them."

"Probably not a wendigo then," Dean murmured.

"Nope. Probably not a wendigo," Sam agreed.

"And where were the victims from? Just the general area of the Pine Barrens? Or a specific town?"

"Most of the attacks are centered on Leeds Point, the place where the Jersey Devil was born and where the first exorcism was performed. I looked to see if there was any sort of construction going on around there, anything that could upset the creature and cause it to retaliate, but I couldn't find anything of the sort. Except," Sam paused, thinking.

"Except what?" Dean prodded when he hadn't continued.

"Well maybe it has something to do with the tourism. Most of the victims were out-of-towners, vacationing for the summer in the Pine Barrens."

"Why would anyone want to vacation in such a creepy area?"

"I think that's exactly why – because it's creepy. All those horror movies and paranormal television shows that have become so popular in recent years – they're creating renewed interest in tragic, terrifying lore. People enjoy the thrill I guess."

"People are stupid," Dean snorted.

"You're telling me. Anyway, like I said, tourism in the area has increased, with the actual townspeople trying to cash-in on the legend. I couldn't find anything else on the internet about it, but right now that's my working theory."

Dean nodded, thinking. "Internet doesn't have _everything_. We need to go to Leeds Point, talk to the people." Sam knew Dean was right, but he still didn't like the idea. "We'll leave tomorrow morning."

Sam instantly protested. "Can't we wait a few days? Make sure we know everything there is so we go in prepared?"

But Dean wasn't budging. "You just said so yourself, there wasn't anymore information than the stuff you already found. No point in hanging around here, wasting money on the motel room. You go to sleep, I'll see if I can find some motels or cabins on Leeds Point."

Knowing the argument could continue all night, Sam decided to give in. He was exhausted and desperately in need of a few hours' sleep. He'd fight harder in the morning. "Yeah okay," he relented, amused at the look of surprise Dean shot him. "You should get some rest too."

Dean snorted at that. "You kidding? I haven't slept this long in years. I feel great." He took the computer back from Sam, settling on his bed to start looking for places to stay.

* * *

Sam tossed and turned in the bed, horrifying visions running through his head. _He could see everything that was happening as if he was actually there. He heard the piercing cry from Dean seconds before the creature overtook him, pinning him to the ground and tearing its claws in long, gaping gashes down his brother's torso. "Dean!" he heard himself yelling, felt himself running to his fallen brother, knowing that it would be too late to save him._

Sam jolted awake, drenched in sweat and shaking. _It had seemed so real_. He looked over at his brother who was slumped in the bed, dead asleep. _Not tired, my ass_, Sam thought. He closed his eyes and tried to fall back asleep but the memories of his nightmare wouldn't leave him. _Nightmare or vision_? he thought, hoping with everything he had that it wasn't the latter. But he couldn't quiet the voice in his head telling him that he was dead wrong.

* * *

_Review? Pretty please? It will make me soooo happy!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks to those of you still reading! And thanks for the reviews :) Keep the reviews coming and I'll keep writing! Hurt Dean soon, I promise.

* * *

Sam tossed and turned all night, unable to get the nightmarish images out of his head. By the time the sun was coming out, Sam felt like he'd been lying awake for hours. Convinced that any more attempts at sleep would be impossible, he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom, turning on the shower and standing under the steady stream, hoping to wash away the apprehension he was feeling at the thought of this hunt. Fifteen minutes later, he _did _feel a little better, but the fear still lingered in the back of his mind, refusing to completely abate.

Dean was just waking when Sam emerged from the bathroom, and Sam laughed at the confused look he wore on his face, obviously surprised he'd fallen asleep so easily. "Not tired, huh?" Sam asked jokingly.

Dean just smiled sheepishly. "Nah, just fell asleep from boredom. Think I'll leave the research to you, Sammy." He started to push himself up into a sitting position. "What time is it anyway? Early o'clock? Why are _you_ awake?"

Sam shrugged, deciding to be honest. "Couldn't really sleep. Figured I might as well get up and do something useful."

"More nightmares?" Dean asked, sounding concerned.

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly, hoping Dean wouldn't press him anymore. And he didn't, though he did eye Sam carefully as he got up, heading for the bathroom.

"You better not have used up all the hot water," Dean threatened, and Sam just smirked at that. "Why don't you pack up a little and we can head out after I'm done in here?" Dean asked, not waiting for an answer as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Though Sam had wanted to stall another day, he knew that, sooner or later, they'd end up in the Pine Barrens hunting this creature, whatever it was. And Dean was right about one thing – they'd pretty much exhausted the Internet resources available on the Jersey Devil. The only way they'd be able to find out more was by actually going to Leeds Point and talking to the people who knew the legend, who had experienced the recent hauntings and deaths. So even though he didn't like it, Sam found himself stuffing his clothes into duffel bags and packing up their weapons and supplies.

* * *

Dean's shower was short and Sam knew when he looked over at him that it had probably been cold. "Oops?" Sam offered in way of apology.

Dean just grumbled something unintelligible and headed towards his bed to pack up. Five minutes later, he was ready to go. "You hungry?" he asked Sam.

"Yeah I could eat," he admitted, following Dean out the door. They went to the same diner they'd gone to the day before and Jolene immediately hurried over to their table, filling their mugs with coffee just as she had the other day.

"Couldn't stay away, huh boys?" she asked sweetly, and Sam winced as Dean went into his charming routine, the one that'd been missing the other day when all he could concentrate on was his alcohol-induced hangover. Jolene was loving it though, and Sam just sat back and sipped his coffee. Dean ordered two specials, one for him and one for Sam, and Jolene headed off to the kitchen to put their orders in. He looked up and met Sam's amused eyes.

"What?" he asked when Sam didn't say anything.

"You're shameless."

"What can I say, Sammy? Women love me."

"Sure man," Sam said smiling, "whatever you say."

Dean took a long sip of his coffee, thinking for a second. "So what was your nightmare about?" he asked, noticing the brief look of panic that flashed across Sam's face. _Thought I'd forgotten, huh, Sammy?_

"Nothing," he started, "It was just a _nightmare _Dean. I never make you tell me yours."

"Yeah well mine don't come true," Dean retorted. "Come on, Sam. You know I'm just gonna keep bugging you. Might as well tell me now and save yourself the pain."

Sam sighed, knowing Dean was right. "It was about _you_," he said quietly. "And this stupid hunt. I saw the Jersey Devil – or whatever the hell it is – kill you. And I couldn't save you."

_Oh. _"So that's why you've been so pissy about this hunt?"

"I haven't been pissy!" Sam insisted. _Okay, maybe __**that**_ _was pissy_. "I didn't have that nightmare until last night. So no. I've been_ annoyed_ because you won't let us take a break. Because you seem hell-bent on hunting 24/7!" Sam looked around, realizing his little outburst had drawn attention to the table. "Sorry," he murmured to no one in particular.

Dean was quiet for a minute. "You're right," he admitted. _That_ got Sam's attention. "I'm sorry, man. And I know you've been telling me this for months now, I guess I just didn't want to hear it." Sam waited, hoping Dean would say they could rest _now_, knowing how unlikely that was. "After this hunt, okay? I promise."

Sam knew Dean could see he was disappointed, but he nodded wordlessly.

"And as for your nightmare...or vision," Dean continued, grinning cheekily. "We'll just have to make sure we get that evil sonofabitch before he can lay a hand on me. Wouldn't wanna ruin this sweet, sweet..."

"Too far, Dean," Sam broke in, but he was smiling a little now too. Funny how Dean could always make him feel better. "But yeah, okay," he agreed, just as Jolene came over with their huge breakfast orders, placing the dishes down in front of the boys.

"Thanks, Sweetheart," Dean said, and Jolene blushed as she turned around to leave. "Eat up, brother," Dean told Sam. "I doubt there will be any food like this in the Pine Barrens."

Sam nodded, picking up his fork. As his thoughts returned to the hunt, the familiar anxious feeling came back, causing Sam to choke a little on his food. And even though it smelled delicious, everything seemed to turn bland in his mouth, leaving behind the sour taste of dread, reinforcing his fears that this hunt was a bad idea.

* * *

Dean paid the bill and the hit the bathroom while Sam went to wait in the car. He had immediately climbed into the passenger seat, knowing Dean would insist on driving. And anyway, he could already feel his eyes drifting shut, his body letting him know it needed to rest.

Sam jerked awake when he felt Dean open the driver's-side door and climb in. "Okay brother," Dean turned to Sam, smiling widely. "Let's go kill ourselves a devil."

The drive to Jersey was relatively short, but the roads leading up to Galloway Township where Leeds Point was situated were rocky and treacherous. Dean swore constantly as he tried to keep the Impala on the road.

"What did you expect, Dean?" Sam asked when Dean was in the middle of a particularly long, colorful tirade.

"Well would it kill them to pave the roads a little?"

"They probably didn't think people would be driving up here in big, classic cars, Dean." Sam reasoned logically. "Hell, this place is cursed, remember? They probably didn't think any _sane _person would _want_ to come up here." Dean didn't respond, though he did tone down the cursing for the remainder of the drive.

They entered what looked like the center of town at a little after 4 PM. There were definitely more people milling about than Sam had anticipated, and he could tell from their appearances that they were most-likely tourists. "Where are we staying?" Sam asked when they were stopped at a traffic light.

"Uhhh," Dean said, thinking. "Called the Devil's Lair." Dean looked over at his brother, grinning.

"Are you serious?"

Dean pulled the Impala into the motel's parking lot. "I don't know, man. It just seemed fitting."

"You're unbelievable," Sam muttered.

Dean nodded, opening his door. "I know. I'll just be a sec," he told Sam, walking into the office. He rang the bell when he didn't see anyone at the front desk. An older man with long, gray hair pulled back in a ponytail hurried out to greet him. Dean liked him immediately, if for his hair alone.

"Welcome to the Devil's Lair!" the man greeted warmly. "How can I help you?"

"Can I have one room with two queens?" he asked, holding out his latest credit card. This one belonged to Dean Haversham from Erie, PA. The man stopped to study him for a minute.

"What brings you up to Galloway? Are you looking for the devil?" he asked, as if that was such a normal question.

Seeing his opportunity, Dean nodded. "Yeah, actually, my brother and I are real big believers in the supernatural," Dean smiled a little at the truthfulness of that statement. "Our dad used to tell us stories about the Jersey Devil when we were growing up," he explained. "When we were driving through Jersey, we knew we couldn't pass up the chance to check it out."

The older man nodded. "You boys be careful," he said seriously. "There have been some accidents around here lately."

_Accidents_, Dean mused. That was a euphemism if he'd ever heard one, he thought, remembering the gruesome descriptions of the victims. "Oh yeah?" he asked instead. "What kinds of accidents?"

"Just inexperienced people going into the woods unprepared," he explained. "Listen, my name is Gary Bosch," he told Dean, getting out one of the room keys. I'm here pretty much 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Come by if you boys have any questions. No sense getting yourselves killed over something careless."

Dean nodded, thanking Gary for his generosity. "Dean," he said, holding out his hand. Gary took it, looking Dean straight in the eyes.

"The Devil is not someone you want to mess with, son." Dean pulled his hand back slowly, eyes still fixed on Gary's.

"Thanks, Gary," he said, taking the key. "But my brother and I know how to take care of ourselves. You don't need to worry about us."

Dean hurried back out the door, creeped out by Gary's sudden change in demeanor. He got into the Impala and stared straight ahead. "_That _was weird," he said without looking over at Sam.

"What was?"

"I don't know, man. Motel owner just gave me weird vibes."

Sam chuckled at Dean's obvious discomfort. "You getting premonitions now too?" he asked.

Dean shook himself out of his daze, glaring over at his brother. "Don't be ridiculous, Sammy. You're the only freak in this family," he told him, grinning when he received a punch on the shoulder.

"Jerk," Sam mumbled in mock annoyance as Dean turned the key in the ignition, driving the car closer to their room.

"What do you say we get our things settled and then head out?" Dean asked, pulling up into a spot near their room. "See if we can't find more locals to spill on the legend."

"Sounds good," Sam answered, opening his door and getting out to look at the rooms. "Dude? Why is every room numbered 666?" Sam asked his brother, noticing that the only thing differentiating the rooms was a letter following the three digits. He watched as Dean walked up to room "666 E" and unlocked it.

"We're in the Devil's Lair, bitch. What did you expect?"

Sam just shook is head in disbelief, following Dean into the room.

* * *

After unpacking and freshening up, the boys headed to the only bar in town, hoping to get some of the drunker patrons to give their sides of the legend. Plus, it always seemed like bartenders had the best information in town, seeing as how they spent many a night listening to drunken ramblings and confessions.

The bar was actually pretty nice, not dirty and sleazy like the joints they usually frequented. Sam got them a table near the bar and Dean went off to grab them some beers. _So much for never drinking again_, Sam thought, amused.

Dean came back a few minutes later, a satisfied smile plastered on his face. "Dude this is _definitely_ the place to get information. I think I just heard four separate conversations about the Jersey Devil."

"Yeah? Anything useful?"

"Nah I just heard little snippets here and there. We can do some real investigating later as," he paused, pulling out two ID badges, "Dean and Sam Haversham. Reporters from the Eerie Erie Enquirer, a family-owned business specializing in weird, unexplainable phenomena across the country."

Sam laughed at Dean's well-thought out cover story. "Reporters it is. Now let's eat, I'm starving."

The food was surprisingly good and Dean found himself liking Leeds Point more and more as the night went on, Jersey Devil notwithstanding. They'd found a few good sources so far and had a vague impression of what was going on, but they were still waiting for that one person who would be able to elucidate everything for them. A few hours later, they found him. Or, rather, he found them.

Dean hadn't even been questioning him – he'd been trying to hit on a girl who found his profession "interesting" and a little bit "dangerous." And apparently that was cool. He was just about to get her number when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Thinking it was Sam, he brushed him off, telling him to hold on. He hadn't been expecting the second, harder shove, and he turned around angrily. Instead of Sam, though, standing behind him was a scraggly-looking old man. He had a dirty, unshaven appearance and wore an eye patch over his left eye, only adding to his mysteriousness. "Buddy, what's your problem?" Dean asked, still annoyed. He saw Sam approaching them from the bathroom, coming to stand beside his brother.

"You the boys asking about the Jersey Devil?"

Sam gave Dean a look – _what the hell, man?_ Dean answered. "Uhh yeah. That's us."

The man nodded, motioning for them to follow him to a corner booth. The boys hesitated at first but then hurried to catch up to him, taking a seat side-by-side at the table. "You know about the Jersey Devil?" Sam asked when he didn't immediately start talking. The older man pointed to his eye.

"First-hand experience with the devil," he explained. "So yeah, I know him."

Sam looked at Dean. _Jackpot_. "Well, is there anything you can tell us about him?" Sam asked.

"I've lived here all my life," he started. "Always heard the legends, the warnings to stay inside after dark. And sometimes I would hear suspicious noises, get weird vibes. But I never really felt like I was in any danger. The devil – if that's what it is – just didn't seem interested in terrorizing the folks of the Pine Barrens anymore. Until two months ago."

He was clearly feeding off the boys' suspense. "What happened two months ago?" Dean prodded.

"People like you, that's what happened." he said angrily.

"Huh?" the boys said in unison.

"Out-of-towners. Yahoos trying to get some thrills off a town's dark past."

Dean eyed him cautiously. "What exactly happened?"

"Honestly?" He started, his tone taking on a less-angry feeling. "I'm not sure what generated all the sudden interest. The legend has been around for centuries and yeah, people have come through here looking for a good scare, but nothing like a few months ago," he paused, taking a sip from his beer. "Right around the beginning of April, dozens of people – _tourists –_ bombarded the town, declaring that they would 'catch' the Jersey Devil."

"And that's when the killings started," Sam stated, beginning to see that his original theory was actually pretty accurate.

"Precisely. That first weekend was when the first person died. There have been five more since then. And yet the people keep coming."

"Well, I mean, the town doesn't exactly seem to want to forget the legend," Dean said, thinking back to Gary Bosch and the Devil's Lair motel.

"It's money, I guess," the man sighed. "Anyway, they're not the ones dying, so I guess they don't really care. And – as awful as it is to say – the killings _do_ bring legitimacy to the legend."

_Shit _Sam thought, nodding at the truthfulness of that statement. "Is there anything else?"

"No," the man said, a little too quickly, looking around nervously. "You boys should leave this town," he warned. "Get out of Leeds Point and never come back. Before it's too late." With that, he got up and hurried out of the bar.

Dean looked at Sam. "_That_ was weird."

"Who the hell was that dude?" Sam wondered aloud.

"That," came a voice behind Sam, "was Harold Jenkins. Craziest kook in down. Don't listen to a word he says – he's been trying to scare out-of-towners his whole life." The person speaking came to sit across from the boys. "Brian Hopper," he introduced himself and the brothers did the same, using their cover stories again. "Hope he didn't scare you off."

Dean shook his head, "We don't scare easily."

"Good. Because Leeds Point is a wonderful town. It'd be a shame for you to miss out on it."

* * *

_Ooooh creepy! I hope you keep reading :) TBC tomorrow or the next day as long as you guys **REVIEW!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: MORE! Thanks for the reviews! Disclaimer time - This chapter has references from The X-Files and psych, so credit where credit's due. If you've seen those shows as many times as I have, you'll recognize them. Please review! It makes me want to write and post so much faster.**

Recap (in case you can't remember from yesterday):

_Dean shook his head, "We don't scare easily."_

_"Good. Because Leeds Point is a wonderful town. It'd be a shame for you to miss out on it."_

* * *

The brothers headed out around 1:30, sufficiently creeped out by the local people. "This case is stranger than I thought it would be," Dean said, thinking.

"You're telling me," Sam agreed. "Honestly, though, I found myself believing Mr. Jenkins," Sam said, "even if he was _weird_."

"Man, this whole town is weird."

"Yeah. Let's just sleep on it. I'll call Bobby in the morning and see if he's come up with anything else."

"Sounds good," Dean said, climbing into bed and turning off the lights.

Bobby, unfortunately, had no new information for them. And after hearing the boys' stories from the bar the night before, he was less and less convinced that this _wasn't _the Jersey Devil.

"Sorry I couldn't be of more help, Sam. What's your game plan gonna be?"

"At this point, I don't know. Dean wants to head out to the woods today, check out the areas where the attacks occurred, but I'm not so sure that's the best idea. The one good thing is that all of the attacks happened after dark. So as long as we go out there early, we shouldn't have to deal with the creature tonight."

"Be careful, Sam," Bobby cautioned. "The things that we deal with – they don't always follow the same pattern. And we have no idea what you're dealing with out there."

Sam mulled over that, agreeing with Bobby and assuring him they'd be careful and stick together. Sam promised to call him later in the evening once they'd returned.

"What'd Bobby say?" Dean asked from his perch on the bed where he'd been cleaning their guns and inventorying their weapons.

"He couldn't find anything more. Shit, man, I'm _really_ not liking this case."

Dean gave him a sympathetic smile. "C'mon, Sammy. It'll be _fun_. And just think how cool it'll be when we tell people that we killed the Jersey Devil! How many people can say that? Huh? Huh?"

Sam smiled at his brother's attempts to make him laugh. "Yeah, yeah," he agreed. "Well if you want to head out and investigate some more, I guess that'll be fine. Let's just check out the center of town a little, see if we can't get even a little more information."

Dean agreed, packing up their stuff into two of the duffel bags so they could bring it with them when they headed out to the woods. He grabbed his boots, stuffing his feet into them and waiting for Sam to follow him out the door.

–

"Hey look, Sam!" Dean called to his brother, holding up a familiar-looking figure. "I found the Jersey Devil!"

"Dude, put that down before you break it," Sam said, coming over to his brother. They were in a souvenir shop in the town square which seemed to sell only one kind of merchandise: anything and _everything_ Jersey Devil-related. The town diner hadn't provided them with any additional information, though their waitress_ did_ like to gossip about the recent deaths. _No one _in the town seemed sympathetic about the killings.

"Man, let's head out to the woods. We're just wasting time here," Dean whined.

Sam couldn't help but agree. "Yeah okay. Let's stop back at the room for a sec, get the supplies."

They brought with them a variety of different weapons because, as Bobby had pointed out, they had no idea what would actually work on the creature. And it was always a good idea to be prepared. John Winchester had drilled that into their heads practically their whole lives.

They drove the Impala about five miles out of the center of town, parking it near a sign that pointed up a narrow path, indicating that it led to the birthplace of the Jersey Devil. That was one good thing about the town's obvious pride in the legend, Sam thought. It made it very easy to find the important landmarks.

"Looks like we're not the only people looking to find the Jersey Devil," Dean said, pointing to the other cars that were parked in the vicinity.

"Let hope they at least have a vague idea about what they're doing," Sam stated, "or there are going to be even more victims before this thing is through."

Dean nodded in agreement, getting their duffel bags from the back seat.

"You packed the holy water and rock salt?" Sam asked him, making sure.

"Of course. I also brought these," he said, holding up two gun-shaped tools.

"Flare guns?" Sam asked him in surprise.

"You never know when these suckers will come in handy," Dean said, grinning. He tossed one of the bags to Sam and the two headed up the rocky path.

They were both sweating by the time they reached the clearing. Even though they were in the mountains, it was still the middle of June and the weather was hot and sticky.

"I guess that's where the Leeds family lived," Sam said, pointing to a broken down, dilapidated cottage. Seeing as how that was the only house around, he assumed it was a good guess.

They headed into the cottage, mindful of the crumbling facade. The house certainly _looked _haunted, with cobwebs hanging from the ceilings and old, broken furniture and dishes scattered around the floor, long since forgotten by its owners.

"What happened to Mother Leeds?" Dean whispered. "You know, after she refused to let her 'son' come home."

"There was a bunch of conflicting information on that," Sam started. "Uhh...but most of the lore said she was killed by the Jersey Devil. In this house."

Dean shot Sam a look of disbelief. "You didn't think that was something worth mentioning?"

Sam shrugged sheepishly. "No, I did." He paused. "I just forgot."

"Hell of a thing to forget, Sammy." Dean scolded mildly.

Just then, a crash came from one of the other rooms. Dean jerked, raising the shotgun he'd been holding. "What was _that_?" he whispered anxiously.

"Don't know," Sam answered, following Dean, his own shotgun raised as well. The two crept into the next room, prepared to fire at the sign of anything supernatural.

They heard louder noises now, the sounds of people laughing. _What the?_ Dean lowered his shotgun as he saw the two burly men standing in the kitchen of the tiny house. He stepped fully into the room, Sam close behind.

"Who are you guys?" he asked._ Why the hell were these two idiots messing around in a potentially haunted house?_

The man turned around, surprised. "Who the hell are _you_?" the bigger one countered.

Dean was about to come back with a nasty retort when Sam stepped forward. "Brothers," he answered hastily. "I'm Sam and this is Dean. We're reporters investigating the return of the Jersey Devil."

Dean glared at Sam, but they knew he'd made the right decision when the two men grinned widely, reaching out to shake the brothers' hands. "I'm Leslie Stokes," the bigger one said, "and this is my brother Anson. We're looking for the devil too!" he said excitedly.

"You are?" Dean asked, unable to keep the hint of annoyance from his voice. "_Why?"_

Anson spoke then, holding up a camera. "One of the bars on in Atlantic City is offering five grand for real, photographic proof."

"You know people have been dying up here, right?" Sam asked them, though he knew they could say the same to him and Dean. He was going to ask if five thousand dollars was really worth risking their lives over, but he had a feeling the answer was yes. "We have some methods of protection," Sam said instead. "Why don't you stick with us for a little? Just to be safe." Sam heard Dean groan and knew his brother wasn't happy with the suggestion. But it was their job to protect people, right? Even idiots like these two. Sam saw the reluctance in Leslie's expression. "We don't care about the money, man." Sam reassured him.

Leslie's expression changed and he nodded eagerly. "Yeah that'd be great. Thanks guys!"

Dean grunted in response. "I don't think we're gonna find the devil in here," he said, motioning around the house. "Let's head out." He stalked off ahead, leaving Sam and the brothers behind.

Sam hurried to catch up to his brother. "Dean," he said, trying to get his attention.

Dean stopped, turning to Sam. "Those two," he said, motioning to Leslie and Anson who were a few hundred yards away, "are a curious cocktail of inbreeding and Type II diabetes," he huffed.

"Hey." Sam quieted him. "They're only going to get themselves lost and killed if we let them go off on their own. We weren't even planning on hunting the thing today anyway, right?"

Dean nodded slowly. "Fine. But only for a few hours. Then we send them home."

Sam agreed quietly, just as the two brothers caught up to them.

"Stick with us at all times," Dean said, eyeing them critically. "And yell if you see anything weird."

* * *

Sam had only intended for them to stay out in the woods for a few hours, so when 4 o'clock rolled around, he figured it was high time they pack it up. They hadn't found anything of interest yet, though luckily they hadn't encountered any other tourists along the way either. The weather had grown almost unbearably hot as the day had gone on. Leslie and Anson were faring far worse than Sam and Dean were, and Sam couldn't believe they were still going. _Must really need that money_, Sam thought.

"Dean!" he yelled to his brother who was a few yards ahead. "Think we should turn around?"

Dean stopped walking, thinking for a minute. There really wasn't anything more they could do for the day and he knew that he and Sam could work a lot more efficiently without Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb dragging them down. "Yeah okay," he agreed, turning to face Sam.

The wind storm came out of nowhere. One second everything was completely calm and in the next, all hell broke loose. Dean couldn't see more than a few inches in front of him, could barely hear his brother yelling out his name over the howling wind. He covered his ears, crouching to the ground and pulling his shirt over his eyes to shield them from the flying debris.

And then, just as quickly as it had started, it ended. Dean looked up surprised, expecting to see his brother looking just as shocked as he was. But Sam was nowhere to be seen and Anson and Leslie were gone too. _What the hell_? He wondered, suddenly worried. _This is _so _not good_.

Dean wandered a few feet, scanning the ground to see if his brother was lying somewhere, hurt. "Sam!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, but the only sound he heard was his own echo. "This certainly wasn't in the research," he said aloud, picking up his bag and heading off in search of his brother.

Sam had been just as taken aback as Dean had been by the freak wind storm. He'd never heard of that happening in this area and it seemed far too strange to not have had some sort of supernatural cause. The subsequent disappearances of Dean and the Stokes brothers were even more unsettling. Knowing he couldn't just wait for him to show up, Sam went off in search of Dean, praying they would make it out of the woods before the sun set.

It felt like Dean had been walking for hours. When he had first started out in search of Sam, he'd tried to head back the way they had come. But somehow along the way he'd gotten turned around, lost. Nothing looked familiar anymore and he was starting to lose daylight.

Sam wasn't faring much better. He now found himself in unfamiliar territory as well, and he kept second-guessing himself, only resulting in him getting more and more lost. _Where the hell was everybody?_ he thought, frustrated.

Just as Sam was about to give up, throw in the towel and just _wait_ to be found, he saw something familiar. A large pine tree stood in front of him, and though the whole forest was filled with them, this one just looked _so_ familiar in the way some of the branches were sagging and the rocks and terrain that surrounded it. _When had he seen it_? Sam racked his brain, trying to remember. And then everything came rushing back in a frightening cacophony of images. _The nightmare_. He had seen this tree right before his brother had been attacked. Sam felt goosebumps rise on his arms as a sudden, crippling fear shot through him. He knew the implication of seeing that same tree now.

"Dean!" he shouted, sprinting towards the clearing that he knew was located a few yards ahead. "Dean!" he yelled again as he spotted his brother. Dean turned to him then, a look of relief etched across his face. _Sam_.

"Watch out!" Sam shouted, but just as he had in his vision, he knew that it was too late.

The creature swooped down at his brother with surprising speed and Dean barely had the time to utter a surprised yelp before it was upon him.

Sam kept running at his brother, screaming in vain as he saw the creature raise its jagged claws. He caught a glimpse of Dean's terrified face just before the creature brought down its heavy paw, swiping it violently across his brother's chest.

* * *

_Want some more hurt Dean? Review! (Please)_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N**:**NOW we're getting to the good stuff! More action and hurt Dean ahead...thank you for those who have been reviewing and sticking with this story! This chapter has another more blatant X-Files reference, from the episode Detour. If you've seen it, you'll know what part I'm talking about. So I take no credit for that scene. Enjoy! And please review!**

* * *

Sam stood, frozen in place as the creature ripped a jagged gash through Dean's chest and shoulder. Dean's cries had quieted and he now lay motionless, unable to defend himself. Not knowing what else to do, Sam grabbed the shotgun and took aim, hitting the creature with a barrage of rock salt. It seemed barely affected by the salt, though it did stop its attack on Dean, and Sam counted that a momentary victory.

The creature was about to return to its victim when Sam fired again. _That_ pissed it off. The animal – whatever it was – turned angry, red eyes on Sam. Sam recognized the telltale features of the Jersey Devil – the horse's head and the grotesque wings. Sam was transfixed, hypnotized by the sight. And then the creature charged him and Sam was certain that was it. He and Dean would just be another casualty of this bizarre legend. Sam couldn't help but stare as the creature ran towards him, but just as he braced himself for an attack it raised its massive wings and swooped upwards, disappearing into the sky.

Sam was frozen, momentarily stunned. But then he heard the rustling and groaning coming from a few feet away and his attention immediately returned to his fallen brother.

"Dean!" he shouted, running over to him, putting a hand on his hip to still his squirming. "Hey bro, can you hear me?"

Dean just groaned in response, bringing a sluggish hand up to grasp at his torn skin. Sam stopped him before he could touch the wounds. Dean seemed to come aware then, opening confused eyes and staring at his brother's concerned face. "What happened?" he asked, again trying to curl in on himself.

"The Jersey Devil I think," Sam answered shortly. And _that_ brought Dean around. He tried to sit up again when he remembered what had happened and where they were.

"Hey man, stay down. Let me look at the damage."

Dean pushed him away. "I'm fine, Sam," he gasped out, short of breath. "Just a flesh wound."

"Oh yeah? Then why are you wheezing?" Sam asked skeptically. He waited a few seconds for Dean to catch his breath.

"Stupid thing knocked the wind out of me," Dean explained, still panting slightly. "Seriously, man. I'm fine." He reached out his hand for Sam to take. Sam grasped it, helping him sit up, still not convinced he was okay.

"Let me take a look. Please?" he wheedled.

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine, don't get your panties in a twist." He hitched up his shirt where the creature had clawed him, revealing three deep gashes stretching from his sternum to his left shoulder.

"_Dean_," Sam said seriously. "These look bad, man." At least one of the scratches was bleeding steadily and Sam took a towel from one of the duffel bags, pressing it hard against the cut.

"What the _fuck_!" Dean yelped.

"I need to stop the bleeding, Dean. Hopefully this won't need stitches, but we still have to keep pressure on it." Sam studied the other cuts, still surprised his brother wasn't in worse shape. Where the longest cut ended, Sam saw the beginnings of a deep bruise. He gently probed the area, receiving a slap on the back of his head from his brother.

"_Now_ what are you doing?" Dean grumbled.

Sam was starting to make out the outline of the bruise. "What is that?" he wondered aloud. "Is that a _hoof_ print?"

"Huh?"

"Dean, you have a hoof print right over your ribs. Did it trample you?"

Dean raised his head, trying to look at his chest. "I don't _think_ so. It doesn't hurt that bad – I think it was just using one of its hooves to hold me down. It didn't break any ribs, at least."

_Well _that's _comforting_, Sam thought. He picked up the towel, looking at the deeper wound. The bleeding had slowed down considerably and Sam was thankful for that. "I'm just going to put a bandage on these cuts – we can fix you up better once we get back to town." That brought up a whole other problem. "If we can figure out how to get out of here."

Dean nodded. "What the heck was up with that dust storm before?" he asked. "And then everyone just _disappeared_."

Sam shook his head. "It had to have something to do with that creature. It's like it wanted to separate us in order to make us easier prey. I hope Anson and Leslie are okay," he added. He knew if the creature set its eyes on the Stokes brothers, they were goners. Sam got a few bandages out of the duffel bags, wrapping Dean's cuts, hoping he would have the chance to clean them out before infection set in. "There," Sam said once he'd finished. "That'll have to do for now."

The sun had almost completely set and Dean shivered in the cool air. "How is it so cold now?" he asked Sam, seeing as how they'd both been sweating bullets not two hours ago.

"_Shit_," Sam said quietly, remembering how he had read about the dangers of hypothermia up in areas like this. People would go out in the daytime when it was scorching hot, get lost, and then find themselves freezing at night when the sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped significantly. "We need to build a fire or something," Sam decided. "I don't think we're going to be able to find our way out of here tonight."

Dean swore, not liking the prospect of spending the night out here at all. He shivered involuntarily and Sam looked at him critically, taking off his over shirt and wrapping it around Dean's shoulders.

"You _need_ to stay warm, Dean," he insisted when his brother predictably tried to give it back to him. "You can very easily go into shock from the blood loss and the cold. I'll be fine without that shirt." Dean nodded not liking it but knowing Sam was right. He could already feel himself getting shaky.

"Are we gonna set up camp here?" Dean asked, looking around the clearing.

Sam considered it for a minute. "I think we should look for a more secluded area," he decided. "We need to stay hidden in case that creature comes back."

They walked for twenty or so minutes, Dean stumbling drunkenly along, trying his best to keep his footing but finding it difficult. Sam had taken both duffel bags once it was clear Dean was struggling just to hold his own.

They stopped in a fairly well-sheltered area, and Dean collapsed against one of the trees, closing his eyes and waiting to catch his breath. "You good?" Sam asked, crouching down near his brother. Dean waved him off.

"I'm fine," he insisted, but made no attempt to get up. Sam put the duffel bags down near Dean and went off to collect sticks and twigs to make a fire, staying as close to the area as possible, terrified he would lose Dean again. He knew they would need a fire to stay warm – the temperature had dropped another few degrees just in the time they'd been looking for a place to stop.

Sam came back to their campsite after he'd collected what he deemed a sufficient amount of firewood. He looked at his brother, concerned that Dean was in the same position he'd been in when Sam had left, his arms wrapped tightly around his body in an attempt to keep in the warmth. He made a move to get up when he saw Sam coming back.

"Stay there, Dean. I got this," Sam said, arranging the twigs. He pulled out a box of matches and tried again and again to get the fire started. Dean watched him with hooded eyes, amused at his brother's struggles. "Yes!" Sam shouted when the fire finally caught. It flickered for a minute, teasing Sam and making him believe it would grow. But just as suddenly as it had started, it died. Sam felt hot tears of frustration prickling at the corners of his eyes at the feeling of failure.

"You want me to try?" Dean had come up behind him, looking pale and shaky. Sam huffed out a laugh at how ridiculous the situation was, but he handed Dean the few matches he had left. He watched amused as Dean tried to strike the match with only one good arm.

Dean looked up to meet Sam's eyes, shrugging pathetically. "Well you weren't doing any better!" he whined. Sam took the remaining matches, trying in vain to get the fire started. When he'd used the last match, he threw the book into the wood pile, utterly pissed off.

"Fuck!" he yelled, hearing the curse echo off the mountains. He felt Dean put a hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Sammy. It's just one night. We'll be fine."

Half an hour later, Dean realized he had been far too optimistic. He couldn't seem to get warm and shivers constantly wracked his body. It was June, goddammit! It wasn't supposed to be so cold!

"Man, I hate camping," he chattered, barely loud enough for Sam to hear. Sam was still trying to light the fire, now attempting to use gunpowder to get it started. "Sam!" Dean said a little louder. "Just give up." Sam gave it one last try before nodding in agreement. He came over to sit by the tree Dean was leaning against.

"You okay?" Sam asked a few minutes later.

Dean nodded jerkily. "So you said it was the Jersey Devil?" he asked. Dean hadn't been able to get a good glimpse of the thing what it had been attacking him.

"It certainly _looked_ like it," Sam thought aloud, remembering the fear he'd felt when he saw the creature attack his brother. "There was something off about it though. I remember thinking that at the time, but I just can't figure out what it was."

"How do you mean?"

Sam was silent, thinking for a moment. He sighed in frustration. "I don't know." Sam wrapped his arms around himself and shivered as the wind picked up slightly. He felt Dean's body quaking beside him and he looked down, seeing him desperately trying to stay awake. Reaching out to Dean's uninjured arm, Sam pulled him gently so he was semi-lying in Sam's lap.

"I don't wanna wrestle," Dean protested feebly, but he let Sam wrap the shirt more tightly around him and lay him down across his lap.

"You're freezing, Dean – I can see it. And you know the best way to spread warmth is through human contact. I won't tell if you don't," he added, smiling. Sleep," Sam ordered gently.

"Need to stay awake," Dean mumbled drunkenly. "Creature...come back."

"Don't worry, man. I'm not gonna sleep," Sam reassured him. "I'll wake you up if I hear anything suspicious. I promise." He felt Dean nod slightly, stilling against Sam.

It was completely, eerily silent. Sam couldn't hear any wildlife at all, and he knew it was a bad sign that animals didn't dare come out. He kept his eyes peeled, constantly looking for signs of movement or the glowing, red eyes of the creature.

"Sam?" he heard Dean whisper weakly.

"Yeah?" Sam asked him, surprised that Dean was still awake.

"Sing something?"

Sam huffed out a laugh. "You want a lullaby, Dean?"

Dean moved his head slightly in the negative. "So I know you're still awake."

"I promised I wouldn't sleep, Dean."

"I know..." Dean trailed off. "Please?"

Sam heard the pleading tone in Dean's voice and knew he couldn't deny him. "Fine," he relented. "But I'm not singing Metallica."

Dean snorted at that. "Anything you want, Sammy," he said, obviously happy Sam had agreed.

"Ugh. Fine." Sam waited for a second, thinking. "Jeremiah was a bullfrog," he sang out in his perfectly off-tune melody, "was a good friend of mine. Never understood a single word he said, but I helped him a-drink his wine. And he always had some mighty fine wine." Sam stopped, feeling embarrassed even though he knew he and Dean were the only ones who could hear him. He didn't continue, thinking Dean had fallen asleep.

"Chorus," Dean insisted quietly.

Sam smiled, shaking his head. "Joy to the world. All the boys and girls. Joy to the fishies in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me."

Sam sang out a few more verses of the song, not stopping until he heard Dean's breathing even out, the steady, up-and-down movement of his chest indicating he'd finally fallen asleep.

_It's gonna be a long night, _Sam thought, once again scanning the trees for any signs of danger, praying the creature wouldn't come back to finish them off.

* * *

_So the scene from the X-Files was the part where Sam was singing "Joy to the World" to Dean. In the episode Detour, Scully sings it to Mulder when they're stuck in the woods for the night...one of my favorite scenes and I knew it would work well here. Let me know if you want more story! In other words...REVIEW!  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry, meant to post yesterday but I couldn't think of what to write. See, I know where I want to go with the story, it's just the getting there that's hard. Thank you for sticking with me and thanks to those who have reviewed my story so far - I really appreciate it. I have a long car ride tomorrow, so hopefully I can do some writing then. Thanks again, guys!**

* * *

Dean startled awake a few hours later at the sound of a terrifying, inhuman screech far off in the distance. He took a minute or two to regain his bearings, trying to remember where he was and why. He noticed a pressure on his right shoulder then and looked down to see Sam sleeping soundly. Dean snorted. _Way to stay awake, Sammy-boy._ He was going to let Sam sleep for a little while longer until he heard the noise again, this time closer. _Shit_. "Sam," he whispered. "Sam!" he tried a little louder. When Sam didn't stir, Dean shifted his body, pulling his shoulder out from under Sam's head, causing Sam to fall forward suddenly. _That _woke him up.

"What the hell, man?" Sam asked angrily, confused. He looked up to see Dean smirking at him, obviously proud of himself.

"You fell asleep," Dean pointed out.

Sam took a second to remember. He gave Dean an embarrassed smile. "Whoops?"

Dean shook his head. "You're just lucky we didn't become chow meat last night." He softened his voice when he saw the guilty look Sam was wearing. "I _told _you to keep singing. You stopped, didn't you?"

Sam just laughed. "Any idea how long we were asleep?" he asked, trying to gauge how much time they had until sunrise.

Dean shook his head, remembering what had woken him in the first place. "Did you hear that screech before?"

Sam sat up a little straighter. "What screech?"

"Sounded like a banshee, man. High-pitched and inhuman-like. Just like the legends on the devil."

"Is that what woke you?"

"Yeah, like five minutes ago."

"Shit," Sam paused, thinking. "Shit. We should pack up." Sam looked down at Dean, studying his pale pallor and the fine sheen of sweat that had formed on his forehead. "You just sit there," he instructed him, grabbing the bags and stuffing their weapons into them. When he'd finished, he looked over, happy to see Dean was standing now, looking a little better than he had a few minutes ago. "Ready to head out?" he asked.

Dean nodded, taking one of the duffel bags from Sam. Sam was about to protest, but thought better of it. The sun was rising as they started their trek, warming the cool air and making it much easier to see. "Which way?" Dean asked, looking around. Nothing seemed familiar.

"Let's head back to the clearing," Sam suggested. "I think I have a vague idea of what direction I had come from when I saw you...when I saw the creature attack you."

They'd been walking for less than 30 minutes when they saw the path they'd walked up the day before. "What the _hell_?" Dean exclaimed, shocked. "This was definitely not here yesterday."

Sam shook his head, agreeing. "It's like the entire forest is haunted – like a land version of the Bermuda Triangle. I didn't see anything about this in the lore."

"Maybe it's not the Jersey Devil, man."

"Dean, I _saw _it. It had red eyes, wings, and a horse's head. I don't know what else it _could be _besides the Jersey Devil."

Dean nodded. "We can do more research when we get back to town. Now let's get out of here before this path disappears...again."

Sam followed Dean down the steep, rocky path, nervous as he watched his brother stumble and nearly go down on more than one occasion. They got to the bottom in less than twenty minutes, and Sam didn't think he'd ever been so happy to see the Impala.

Dean ran over to his beloved car, running his hand down the side. "Baby, am I glad to see you!" he exclaimed. Sam just snorted, walking around to the passenger side. He knew Dean shouldn't be driving in the condition he was in, but it was only a five-minute drive back to town and Dean would be pissed if he even suggested he wasn't well enough to drive.

Dean climbed in beside him, closing his eyes for a second and leaning his head against the seat. "I'm _tired_," he said, and Sam thought he was going to fall asleep right there. "Ugh, let's get out of here." He turned the key in the ignition and sped back to town.

Sam was surprised by how crowded the center of town was – it was barely 7 AM. They headed straight to the motel, planning on getting another few hours of sleep before continuing their investigation.

"_Shit_. Dean, look," Sam said, pointing to room 666 C, where Leslie and Anson Stokes were hastily packing their car.

Dean snorted, "I don't believe it." He parked the car and headed over to the brothers. "Hey," Dean said, approaching Leslie. "You guys going somewhere?"

Seeing Dean, Leslie grabbed him and pulled him into a tight hug. Dean winced as he pressed against the still-tender wounds. "You're alive!" Leslie shouted, clearly elated. Dean saw Sam coming up to them, a smile on his face at Dean's obvious discomfort. "We thought you guys were goners!"

Sam spoke up then. "Yeah man, we thought the same thing. What happened to you guys?"

"There was that ridiculous wind storm," Leslie started, "and then you guys were just _gone_."

"But you and Anson didn't get separated?" Dean asked, trying to figure out what exactly had happened. Leslie shook his head.

"No, we didn't lose each other. And then we heard those terrible cries coming from the woods."

"The screeching?" Sam asked.

"Uh huh. So we ran out of there as quickly as we could."

"So you weren't lost _at all_?" Dean asked, and he couldn't help but be a little annoyed that these two idiots had made it out of the woods unscathed.

"Not at all. In fact, we didn't have to go anywhere really – the path was just _there."_

Dean looked over at Sam, both of their expressions conveying their confusion and the question they were both thinking: _what the hell is going on here?_

"So I guess you guys are leaving, then? What about your five grand?"

"Are you kidding me? I'm never setting foot in those woods again!" Leslie exclaimed, and Anson came up beside him, nodding his head in agreement. "You guys should leave too. This place is dangerous."

Sam nodded, assuring him that they would take his advice. They wished the brothers luck and headed back to their own motel room.

"Is it just me, or do you get the feeling that the Jersey Devil thing was targeting us?" Dean asked once they were inside.

"Definitely not just you. This case is so _weird_." Dean took off his boots and jacket, lying down on the bed. "Dean, we need to clean those cuts out."

Dean groaned. "Can't we do it later? They're fine. I just wanna sleep."

"No, they've been left untreated for too long. You may even have an infection starting. It'll be quick and then you can sleep for the rest of the day."

"Ugh. Fine."

Sam was getting the med kit out of the trunk when he heard his cell phone ringing. He looked at the caller ID and saw it was Bobby. _Whoops, he's gonna be mad_, Sam thought, picking up.

"Dammit Sam! Why don't you or your brother answer your damn cell phones?"

"Hey Bobby," Sam answered smiling.

"Hey yourself, kid. You promised you'd call yesterday. Then I don't hear from you and can't contact you. What the hell?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. We sorta had a situation."

Bobby was quiet a moment. "The Jersey Devil?" he asked. Sam nodded even though he knew Bobby couldn't see him.

"Well _something_ weird at least. Dean and I had to spend the night in the woods around Leeds Point. No cell phone service out there, I guess."

"Did you see the devil, Sam?"

"I think so. I mean, it _looked_ like the Jersey Devil, from what I could tell. I didn't get that long a look at it though – I was too busy trying to stop it from killing Dean." Sam heard Bobby swear.

"What happened to your brother?"

"The creature clawed him across the shoulders. Didn't need stitches, but it looked pretty painful. And get this – there was a _hoof print_ where the creature held him down."

"Sure sounds like the Jersey Devil," Bobby muttered. "How's Dean doing?"

"Seems okay. He's still fighting me, so I guess that's a good sign." Bobby snorted. "Actually, Bobby, this case is even weirder than we thought. Yesterday, while Dean and I were just doing recon in the woods, there was this strong, inexplicable wind that came out of nowhere and completely separated us. And when we found each other again, we couldn't find our way out of the forest. Then, this morning, it was like we had barely walked anywhere and we found the path leading back to the car in no time."

Bobby thought about that for a moment. "So you think that there was something supernatural keeping you and Dean apart and forcing you to stay in the woods?"

"It certainly seemed like that – like something wanted us separated so we would be easier prey. Have you ever heard of anything like that?"

"Wendigos are known for doing that – creating distractions to make the hunt easier. But you know what Wendigos look like – they don't reallly come that close to resembling the Jersey Devil."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, thinking about the Wendigo they had faced in Black Water Ridge. "So you don't have any other guesses?"

"Let me do some more research and get back to you." He waited a beat. "Oh and Sam? Stay out of those woods until you have a better idea of what you're dealing with."

"Yeah, don't worry, Bobby. We're not on a suicide mission here."

"Okay good. You boys take care of yourselves."

"Thanks Bobby, we will. Talk to you later." Sam grabbed the med kit and headed back to the room. Dean was lying on the bed, boots and jacket still on, his eyes half closed though he was obviously trying to stay awake. Sam smirked, knocking his brother's boot. Dean startled awake, sitting up quickly. "I've got the kit," Sam told him, holding up the med kit he'd retrieved from the car.

Dean grumbled, still annoyed. "Fine, let's get this over with." He took off his jacket, tossing it onto the floor and then pulled off his shirt so Sam could have access to the cuts.

"Ew," Sam said, studying the gashes on Dean's shoulder.

"Ew, Sam? Seriously? Way to be encouraging."

Sam looked up, embarrassed. "Sorry man, these cuts are nasty." The deepest of the three gashes was already starting to turn red, puss oozing out around the edges. _Shoulda cleaned it yesterday. _He poured some peroxide on a gauze pad and started wiping it across one of the cuts, causing Dean to flinch. "Sorry, gotta clean them out. Looks like they're already getting infected. Figures – who knows what kind of dirt and germs were on that creature's claws..." Sam trailed off when he saw the incredulous look Dean was giving him. "What?"

"Is the commentary _really_ necessary, Sam? You're supposed to be making me feel better!"

"Ha. Sorry," Sam apologized, continuing with his ministrations. He reached a hand towards Dean's forehead to check for fever, only to have it immediately knocked away by his brother.

"Dude," Dean protested. "Personal space."

"Just wanted to see if you had a fever," Sam groused. "Here take these," he said, holding out some aspirin. "They're just aspirin," he insisted when Dean hesitated. "Almost done here," he added once Dean had taken the pills and dry-swallowed them. "How do you feel?"

"I told you, I'm _fine_. Tired and annoyed, but fine."

"Alright, alright." Sam packed the wounds with antibiotic ointment, then wrapped Dean's shoulder with gauze. Dean strained his neck, looking at Sam's handiwork.

"Why's it always _that _shoulder?" he whined.

Sam smirked a little. "You should be happy it's not your right one."

"Yeah I suppose," Dean agreed, his eyes drifting shut again.

"Aren't you gonna take off your boots?" Dean made a noncommittal sound, kicking his feet a little in an attempt to get the shoes off. "Dude, they're still _tied_. You really think that's gonna work?" When Dean didn't answer, Sam sighed, untying the boots and tugging them off for him. "Sleep tight, bro," Sam told him, going to his computer to do some more research on the creature haunting Leeds' Woods.

* * *

_Shorter chapter and not much in terms of the case, but I had it written so I figured I'd post. More soon! Please review :)_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Sorry for the delay! Apparently my plan to write in the car didn't take into account how crappy the driving would be...so I decided to sleep instead! Thanks for reviewing! And to those of you who asked for more Hurt!Dean, don't worry, your wish is my command. Enjoy :)**

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Sam sat at his computer, examining dozens of first-hand accounts of Jersey Devil sightings, trying to determine how similar or dissimilar his and Dean's own encounter had been. All of the stories described the same massive creature with beady red eyes and all mentioned the haunting, piercing cry which accompanied it. As Sam continued reading, he realized just how lucky Dean had been – almost all of those attacked were ripped apart by the creature's claws and killed instantly. Sam looked over at his brother, thankful that all he had to show for his encounter were a few relatively superficial cuts.

Sam continued racking his brain, trying to remember what had seemed off about the creature. But no matter how many different pictures he looked at, he just couldn't place it. His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet mumbling coming from Dean's bed. His brother was shifting in his sleep, becoming more and more agitated by the minute. Sam couldn't hear all that he was saying, but he did make out the words "Dad" and "Sam," and he could only imagine that it had something to do with Dean's promise to their father.

"Dean," he said, quietly at first. When that didn't work, he reached out to shake his brother's shoulder, alarmed at the heat coming off of him. "Dean," he said more loudly, shaking him slightly. Dean awakened with a start, clearly disturbed by whatever he'd been dreaming about. "You okay?" Sam asked, his hand still on his brother's shoulder.

Dean nodded, shaking Sam's hand off of him. "I'm fine, dude. Get off." Sam backed away, letting Dean get up. "You sleep?" Dean asked, looking over at Sam.

Sam looked critically at Dean, deciding to let the matter go for now. "Nah, wasn't tired. Tried doing some research but I didn't find anything really helpful."

Dean winced, putting a hand to his shoulder, to the still-tender cuts. "Sonofabitch. Stupid Jersey Devil."

"You okay?" Sam asked, concerned. "You felt hot – do you have a fever?"

Dean raised a hand to his face, wiping off the sweat. "Brother, I am _always_ hot." He got up, walking to the bathroom and effectively ending the conversation. Dean examined himself in the bathroom mirror, away from the concerned eyes of his brother. He looked like shit – his face was pale and slick with sweat – and he didn't feel much better either. He could tell he had a fever, the heat making him feel dizzy and shaky.

Deciding he just needed a shower, Dean stripped off his clothes, carefully unwrapping the bandages that covered his wounds. "Ew," he said aloud, mimicking Sam's own observations about them from before. The deepest gash was definitely infected – pink and puffy. He brought his hand up to gently press against the cuts, flinching at how tender they still felt. "Stupid Jersey Devil," he mumbled again, stepping into the shower and turning the water on as hot as he could stand.

Dean shut off the water when it started to turn cool and when his fingers were beginning to prune. He toweled off, carefully dabbing at the cuts on his chest and shoulder, and got dressed, deciding on jeans and a button-up shirt. Sam was still researching, but he looked up as Dean came out.

"You want me to dress the cuts again?"

Dean shrugged, knowing Sam would insist anyway.

"You up to doing some more investigating tonight?" Sam asked as he came over with the med kit, pushing his brother to sit on the bed.

Dean nodded yes. "More interviews?"

"Yeah, I was thinking maybe we should try to talk to Harold Jenkins again. After all, he said he had a first-hand encounter with the Jersey Devil. Maybe he can shed some more light on what we saw."

"Good idea," Dean agreed. "I think I want to talk to the owner of this place too – Gary Bosch," he added. "Seems like he's been around here for awhile. I bet he knows some stuff about the devil. Ow," he said then, glaring down at Sam who was pressing none-too-gently on the wounds.

"Sorry, man. These cuts don't look good at all."

"So put some more antibiotic cream on them," Dean reasoned.

Sam shook his head, knowing that might not be enough to kill the infection. "If this gets worse, you're seeing a doctor."

Dean snorted but agreed, if only to get Sam off his back. "You done?" he asked when Sam started packing up the supplies.

"Best I can do for now. Wanna head out?"

"Yeah – how bout you go talk to Jenkins while I stay here and have a chat with Gary. I'll meet you at the bar when I'm done here. Do you want the Impala?" Dean asked, holding out the keys.

"Nah, I'll walk now. You can drive it over later when you're done here. Call me if you run into any trouble."

"Yeah you too. See you in a bit."

* * *

The bar wasn't nearly as crowded as it had been the day before, but there was still a fair amount of people there for 6 o'clock in the evening. Even so, Sam spotted Harold Jenkins almost immediately. The older man was sitting alone in the same booth that he'd been at the other day when Sam and Dean had first talked to him. He was nursing a beer and it looked like he'd been there for quite awhile, judging by his level of intoxication. "Mr. Jenkins?" Sam asked, approaching him. Jenkins looked up, focusing his one eye on Sam in a beady stare. "May I sit?" Though Jenkins didn't look pleased with the question, he motioned his hand towards the empty seat across from him.

"What do you want?" his voice was harsh but Sam detected a hint of weariness behind it as well.

"I just have some questions," Sam started, "about the Jersey Devil."

Jenkins nodded. "Yeah I figured. So you saw it?"

Sam was taken aback, "How did you know?" Jenkins didn't answer, taking a sip from his beer and staring back at Sam. "I want to ask you some things about it," Sam said when it was clear Jenkins wasn't going to offer anything more. Jenkins nodded and Sam continued. "I've looked at every picture I could find on the Jersey Devil, read every encounter. And what I saw – it _fits_. But there was something _off. _I just can't remember what it was." He looked up at Jenkins to see his reaction. The man was stoic, not even blinking. "Maybe I'm just imagining it."

"Maybe." Jenkins agreed.

"That's all you have to say?" Sam countered, annoyed. "You've lived here your whole life. Isn't there something more you could offer?"

"What would you have me say, boy?"

"Well is it _real_?"

Jenkins pointed to his eye patch. "I'd say so. Did it get _you_?"

Sam shook his head. "My brother," he said meekly. "But he's okay," he added quickly. That seemed to surprise Jenkins.

"When the devil sets its sights on someone, they're not usually okay," he said coldly, and Sam felt shivers run down his spine. But Dean _was_ okay. Wasn't he?

"But _you're_ okay," Sam insisted, trying to make sense of what Jenkins was saying. "And you said the Jersey Devil attacked _you_."

"Well I'm not like most people." With that, he stood up quickly, making a move to leave. Sam stopped him when he caught a glimpse of a pendant hanging around Jenkins' neck. The silver necklace reminded Sam of Dean's own, but this one had an odd shape, like something you would see in a witch's spell book.

"What is that?" Sam asked suspiciously. It looked so familiar.

Jenkins looked down, and Sam was so sure he was about to tell him. He glanced quickly around the bar, turning nervous eyes to Sam. "_Leave," _he insisted. "Get your brother and leave this town. Before it's too late." He shook Sam's hand off his arm and hurried off, leaving Sam to sit by himself, dumbfounded.

* * *

Dean didn't immediately walk to the the front office after Sam left, deciding he needed to collect himself a little more first. He didn't want Gary to know about his encounter with the devil and he knew if he headed over there looking like he did now, the older man would be able to tell something was wrong. Returning to the bathroom, he splashed cold water on his face, trying to wash away the signs of fever that lingered there. _Still look like hell_, he thought, but knew that was the best he could do for now. He grabbed his jacket – even though it was almost 80 degrees outside – and headed out to the motel's office.

Not surprisingly, Gary was sitting at the front desk. He stood up when he saw Dean approaching. "Dean!" he said warmly, grasping Dean's hand. "How are you enjoying Leeds Point?"

Dean offered him a half-smile. "It's great," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "Very touristy." Dean saw the hint of a frown cross Gary's face, but it was immediately replaced with a wide grin.

"We try," Gary said. "So what can I do for you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me a little more about the Jersey Devil. My brother and I only know what our dad used to tell us, and to be honest it all kinda sounded like tall tales if you ask me." Again, Dean felt like he'd hit a nerve.

"Believe me, son. They're anything but tall tales." He motioned for Dean to take a seat. "And I've got stories."

Dean listened, his attention rapt as Gary detailed the history of the Jersey Devil. It sounded pretty similar to Sam's own explanation, but Gary's was somehow more intimate – perhaps because he'd grown up on Leeds Point, hearing the stories his whole life. "So then," Dean spoke up when Gary paused, "what do you think is causing the recent deaths?" Dean knew he was sweating, could feel the beads dripping down his face – so then why did he feel so cold? He shivered as he waited for Gary's response.

"Guess the devil's just angry." Gary offered. "People should mind their own business, if you ask me. Can't blame the devil for protecting his home."

"No, I guess you can't," Dean agreed. "Do you know of any ways to rid the woods of it?" He asked, and Gary bristled at the question.

"Now why would we want to do that?" Dean was about to answer, thinking it was obvious. But the look Gary was giving him was making him feel far too uncomfortable.

"Well thank you for your time." Dean said instead, getting up from the chair, feeling dizzy as the blood rushed to his head.

"Are you okay, boy?" Gary asked him, sounding concerned.

Dean nodded. "Just a little under the weather. I'll be fine, thanks," he added, walking quickly out of the small office, eager to get away from Gary.

He stopped off in the motel room and grabbed the Impala's keys then headed off to the bar to meet up with Sam.

Sam was seated at the bar when Dean came in and immediately waved him over.

"Hey, you find out anything from old man Jenkins?" Dean asked quietly.

"Yeah maybe," Sam said. "I'll explain more later. Actually the bartender –" Sam motioned to the burly, tattooed man on the other side of the bar, "Jeb – has been very helpful. Pointed out specifically where all the attacks have occurred in the last two months. Look at this," Sam said, pointing to the map of Leeds' Woods that he had spread out on the bar, "I marked off the general areas. And here," he said, taking out his pen, "is where you were attacked. I _think_. Still not sure about that one." Sam connected all the points, turning the map so Dean could see.

"What the hell?" Dean asked when he saw the drawing. The points – 9 in all – connected to form a pentagonal shape, crisscrossing in a pattern Dean had never seen before. "Do you know what it means?"

Sam shook his head. "No clue. But get this – Jenkins was wearing a necklace with the exact same design. And," Sam leaned closer now, whispering, "I can't be positive, but I think I saw that symbol on the creature as it was coming towards me."

"_On _the creature? Where?"

"Just above its heart. It was faint, but I'm almost positive now."

"_Shit,_" Dean whispered. "So you think Jenkins has something to do with this?"

"It's a definite possibility. Did you find out anything from Gary?"

"Not really. But I did get the feeling that he really hates tourists, even if he pretends he doesn't."

"Yeah I've gotten that feeling from a lot of the townspeople here. I guess they're sick of the legend."

"And the attention it brings," Dean added. "We should see if Bobby knows anything about that symbol. And keep an eye on Jenkins."

"Yeah sounds good. Let's grab dinner and then head back to the motel. I have a feeling this case is going to get even more complicated before everything is said and done."

* * *

_A/N Still liking it? Please review!_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Honestly, I hadn't really figured out what I was going to do after the last chapter, so when you guys suggested that Dean was poisoned, I figured I'd go with that. Hope this satisfies :) Also thanks for your reviews! I love and appreciate every one of them.**

* * *

Dean called Bobby on his cell while Sam searched the Internet for any symbols resembling the one he had seen around Harold Jenkins' neck. Though there was a wealth of information on pentagonal-shaped supernatural symbols, Sam was having trouble finding any information on that specific one. Dean had taken his cell phone outside, talking to Bobby in a hushed whisper.

"Boy, I know you have a tendency to hide things from your brother. How are you _really _doing?"

"I'm fine, Bobby. If Sam hadn't saved my ass, I'd probably be dead, but he did and I'm _fine_."

"Dean," Bobby said, his tone indicating that he wasn't going to accept that answer, "there are a lot of things we don't know about the Jersey Devil. And if that's what attacked you, you have to be sure that there's no poison or any other kind of supernatural illness that could have been transmitted through the cuts. So I'll ask again. How do you feel?"

Dean brought his hand up to the cuts. They still hurt, but that wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "I don't know," he hesitated. "I think I have a fever, but that could just be from infection. Heck, Bobby. How am I supposed to know if there are any supernatural effects?"

Bobby sighed. Truth was, he had no idea. "Do you feel ill?"

Dean nodded. "A little shaky I guess. Feel like I could sleep for a week."

"Let your brother know, okay?" Bobby asked, knowing Dean most likely wouldn't. No matter, Bobby would make sure to tell Sam. "Even if it isn't something supernatural, Sam needs to know that you're not at the top of your game. You're just putting both of you at risk."

"Bobby, it's _nothing_," and Bobby smiled at how well he knew the boy.

"Just take care of yourself, ya idgit."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Let me talk to your brother." He heard Dean start to protest. "Just so I can get more details on the symbol." _And tell him to keep an eye on you_, Bobby added silently. He heard Dean reluctantly give in.

"Hold on." Dean walked over to Sam, kicking a leg of the chair he was sitting on. "Bobby," he said, holding out the phone. Sam took it, walking outside and leaving Dean to look at the notes he'd taken down.

"Hey Bobby," Sam said warmly. "Dean tell you about the symbol?"

"Vaguely, but he said you'd be able to describe it better. First, though, how does he seem?"

That got Sam's attention. "A little feverish, maybe. I think one of the cuts is getting infected."

"I told him this too but you know Dean – he's not one to really look after himself. So I'll tell you what I told him. We can't rule out the possibility that some kind of poison got transmitted through the cuts Dean got from that creature. You need to watch him – make sure his condition doesn't deteriorate."

"Shit," Sam muttered. "He seems okay – relatively."

"I'm not trying to scare you, Sam. I just want you to look out for him; just to make sure."

"Yeah Bobby, you know I will."

"Yeah, I do. Okay Sam what about this symbol Dean mentioned?"

Sam told him about the charm around Jenkins' neck and the pattern that all the attacks formed on the map. He described the symbol in detail, waiting while Bobby sketched it down.

"Bobby?" Sam asked when Bobby was quiet for a little.

"I'm here, Sam. Just thinking. This symbol – it _does_ look familiar. Very ancient – and most likely very powerful."

Sam cursed. "Yeah, that was my thought too."

"I've got a few ideas about where to start looking," Bobby told him. "I'll get back to you in the morning. Take care, Sam."

"Thanks, you too Bobby."

Sam walked back into the room, looking over at Dean. "What?" Dean asked when Sam just continued to stare.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Dean muttered a curse under his breath. "You and Bobby just won't stop, will you? I'm fine. Now can we please get back to figuring out what the hell is going on in this freaky, freaky town?"

The brothers got to work, listing what they knew so far.

"So Jenkins is number one on our list of suspects," Sam started. "Who else?"

"Honestly? Pretty much everyone in this town. But if you're looking for names, put down Gary Bosch and that guy – uhh Brian Hopper – the other one from the bar that first night."

Sam nodded, remembering the weird vibes he'd gotten from that man as well. "Okay, what else do we know? Besides the symbol, we have the fact that the killings started up a few months ago after more than a decade of silence."

"And the fact that all those attacked were tourists," Dean added, "or at least outsiders," he said.

Sam sat quietly, thinking. "We need to find out more about the exorcism that banished the devil back in the 1700s," he decided. "But I looked – there's nothing specific available online, just vague references to it."

"What about the town library?" Dean asked, dreading the thought of having to go there.

"Of course," Sam agreed. "I didn't even think of that." Sam looked at his watch. "No way it's still open now. Let's just hit the sack and go first thing."

Dean agreed, stripping off his jacket and crawling into bed, excited at the prospect of sleep. "Night Sammy."

"It's Sam," he smirked before climbing into his own bed and turning off the lights.

* * *

Dean was awake before Sam for once. He didn't sleep well at all, the fever causing him to become alternately hot and cold and preventing him from ever getting too comfortable. He decided to head out to the cafe in town and get some coffee for himself and Sam. It was a nice morning – not too hot and not too cold – and there were a few other early-risers walking around town. Dean walked into the coffee shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee already causing him to become more awake. He walked up to the counter, smiling widely at the cute barista who blushed in return.

"What can I getcha?" she asked sweetly. Dean was about to come back with one of his patented flirty responses, but he felt distinctly uncomfortable, realizing that all of the patrons in the shop had turned wary eyes towards him. He cleared his throat, smile leaving his face.

"Two coffees please," and he saw the disappointed look she flashed him. Dean took the coffees, leaving the girl a big tip as an apology. He hurried back to the motel room, no longer enjoying the nice weather.

Sam was just waking up when Dean returned and he smiled gratefully at Dean for the coffee. "How long have you been up?" Sam asked him.

"Not long," he lied. "We'll head over to the library as soon as you're ready."

Sam eyed him warily. "Yeah okay. Give me ten minutes." He headed towards the shower, grabbing some clothes to change into.

Dean sagged in relief when Sam closed the door, the brief energy he'd gotten from the coffee leaving him almost immediately. He felt utterly drained – tired and shaky. And he was concerned that Bobby may have been right about the cuts. He shucked off his jacket, removing his shirt and unwrapping the dressing over his cuts. "Shit," he whispered when he saw the wounds. There were black lines snaking from the cuts, collecting in an ugly pattern near the hoof-shaped bruise.

"Dean?" he looked up when Sam came out of the bathroom, hair still wet from the shower. "Let me look," he instructed, and Dean couldn't do anything but yield to his brother's request. "This doesn't look like an ordinary infection," he said, dismayed. Dean just shook his head in agreement. "How do you feel?"

Knowing the jig was up, Dean answered honestly. "Not great." Sam nodded even though he was surprised with the frankness of Dean's response.

"Elaborate a little?" Sam asked not unkindly.

"Just sick I guess. Flu-ey – shaky. And really tired," he added with a sigh.

Sam studied him, concerned. "I don't know what to do. We can clean it some more, but if it's supernatural, I don't think that will have any effect on it. Maybe holy water will work." Sam went to the supplies, pulling out a small flask that they had filled with the blessed water. He gently pushed on Dean's shoulder so he was lying against the pillows. "Brace yourself, man. I don't know what this will do."

Dean closed his eyes, anticipating a searing pain, but the holy water felt no different than normal water. He opened one eye to look at Sam, seeing the disappointment in his brother's face. "Damn," Sam muttered. "Fuck. Maybe Bobby will have some more info when he calls. Are you okay to go to he library now?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I don't wanna just sit here doing nothing." Sam handed him a few aspirin and he took them gratefully. His head was starting to pound and he was having trouble concentrating.

"Okay, let's go," Sam said, getting up.

The library was only a few blocks away and the weather was so nice that they decided to walk there, though Sam was regretting the decision when he saw Dean staggering, the weariness weighing him down. He put a hand on Dean's elbow to steady him, concerned when he didn't immediately shake him off.

The library was empty, save for one or two people reading at the tables. The librarian eyed them suspiciously when they entered, but was very helpful once they explained their interest in the Jersey Devil. She led them to a section of the library far away from the main area, filled with old books and papers. "This is our historic collection," she explained. "This is where all of the first-hand accounts of the Jersey Devil will be found. It's really quite interesting," she said with a warm smile.

Sam thanked her, "This is great," he said.

"You're welcome," she smiled back. "Just come get me if you have any questions." Sam assured her they would and she left them to look at the old books.

"Where do we start?" Dean asked wearily.

"I guess with the earliest stuff." He looked over at Dean. "Do you want to rest?" he asked, seeing as how Dean seemed to be fighting hard just to keep his eyes open.

Dean shook his head, "No. I wanna help." He took one of the books and started reading.

* * *

"Listen to this," Sam said, a hint of excitement in his voice. They'd been reading the old books for more than an hour and Sam had yet to find anything he didn't already know. Dean looked up, waiting for Sam to continue. "There's this one entry," Sam said, pointing to the old, worn book he was reading. "A daughter wrote about her father's encounter with the Devil. Her dad – Jacob Reeves – apparently survived, but soon he started to show signs of a strange illness."

"Did it kill him?" Dean asked, hoping the answer was no.

Sam shook his head. "Not the sickness, no, though he did get worse as the days went on."

Dean looked hopeful. "So he was okay?"

Sam shook his head. "The Jersey Devil killed him."

"He went back into the woods? That's stupid."

"He didn't, Dean. The Devil killed him in his own house."

"_What_?"

"Yeah I know. And he wasn't the only one. Everyone who survived – they were all killed by the Devil."

Dean shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. They couldn't all have been killed. And anyway, their houses were practically _in_ the woods back then. No way the Jersey Devil comes out and does house calls anymore."

Sam shrugged. "I mean, I don't think there have been _that _many survivors to begin with. And none of the tourists who were killed in the last few months survived their initial encounters with the Devil, so he didn't need to come to town to finish them off."

"What about Jenkins?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, I don't know. That definitely breaks pattern. But I don't think we can take the chance of waiting. We need to figure this out and end it soon – before the Jersey Devil comes for you."

Dean shivered, whether from the fever or the prospect of the Jersey Devil hunting him down, he wasn't sure. Either way, his resolve was waning and his head was spinning.

"You can rest, Dean. I'll just do a little more research." Dean nodded, placing his head down on the table and closing his eyes.

Dean awoke to the sound of Sam's cell phone ringing. "Gonna get in trouble with the pretty little librarian," he slurred, causing Sam to laugh.

"I'll take it outside. Be right back, Dean," Sam said, heading to the front. Dean laid his head back down and tried to sleep.

"You got anything on the symbol, Bobby?" Sam asked once he was outside.

"Yeah, think so. How's Dean?"

Sam sighed, "Definitely some kind of supernatural infection thing going on. He's tired, sick. I'm worried, especially since now it seems like those people who tangle with the Jersey Devil seem to be marked."

"Yeah, I found that too," Bobby said, resigned. "You'll just have to make sure he's okay until you guys can banish this thing."

"What about the symbol?"

"I found it in one of the old exorcism books. More specifically, it's a symbol related to the exorcism that the townspeople used to banish the Devil with back in 1740."

"But why is the Jersey Devil back now?" Sam wondered aloud. "1740 was the only time that exorcism was performed, right?"

"I have a theory," Bobby offered. "but you're not gonna like it."

"I don't like anything about this case," Sam said wearily. "Let's hear it."

"That banishing spell – it's not like the ones that you and Dean use now to exorcise demons. Not like the ones that any hunter uses now, actually. It's darker stuff, more dangerous. Anyway, there were a few other spells associated with the one they used to banish the creature. One, specifically, can be used to summon something that had originally been exorcised."

"Summon it – to _control_ it?" Sam asked, horrified.

"Exactly. And if that's what's going on now in Leeds Point, this is going to be a tricky situation."

"Shit. Why would anyone want to bring that thing back?" Sam asked, even though he had some suspicions. He didn't wait for Bobby to answer. "So if it's someone here, someone in town, how do we stop it?"

"You need to find out who it is. And even then, just undoing the spell isn't going to work. They have to have some part of the creature that's allowing them to control it. And until you find that, you won't be able to stop them."

Sam groaned, not liking the sound of that. "Okay, Bobby, thanks. I'm going to go get Dean and go back to the motel. We can figure out more back there. I'll be in touch." Sam hung up the phone, hurrying back into the library to collect his brother.

Dean still had his head down on the table when Sam returned, though Sam could tell he wasn't really asleep. "Dean," he said quietly, and Dean raised his head slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Come on, let's pack up."

Dean looked around drowsily. "What'd Bobby say?"

"A lot. I'll explain back at the motel."

Dean nodded, standing up on shaky feet. "You okay?" Sam asked, putting a hand behind Dean's back in case he fell.

Dean grunted but didn't answer Sam's question. "Let's just get out of here. I think I'm allergic to libraries."

Sam snorted at that and quickly put back the books they'd been using, stuffing a few into his bag in case they needed them for future reference. He led his brother outside, feeling the heat through Dean's clothes. "Dean," he said after Dean had stumbled for the third time. "Do you wanna stay here? I can go get the car, pick you up."

Dean shook his head, strengthening his resolve once he realized he was scaring his brother. "It's just a few more blocks. I'll be fine."

Sam didn't say anything, but he was relieved that he wouldn't have to leave Dean behind, especially if the Jersey Devil had marked him somehow.

Sam unlocked their room and Dean immediately stumbled in, collapsing on the nearest bed. "You gonna sleep?" Sam asked him, concerned.

Dean pushed himself up, shaking his head. "No, I wanna hear what Bobby told you first."

Sam told him about the symbol's relation to the original exorcism and about his and Bobby's suspicions that a towns person was controlling the creature.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Dean concluded. "This town is full of wackos."

Sam agreed. "If someone _is_ controlling it, then that could explain the wind storm and why the creature seemed to be targeting us. Maybe they realized we were a threat to the Jersey Devil."

"If that's the case, then it's most-likely someone we talked to."

Sam considered that. "Not necessarily. We weren't exactly discreet about what we were doing here," he pointed out. "Anyone at the bar could have overheard us."

"Yeah, true. But what would be the point in bringing the Jersey Devil back? Is it simply for the love of carnage?"

"Think about it – all the people killed were tourists. Maybe whoever is controlling it is sick of the outsiders who come seeking entertainment from their town's tragic history. And it certainly hasn't been hurting business around here either."

Dean nodded. "So what now?"

"I think we need to go pay Jenkins a visit at some point. I want to ask him about his necklace."

"Do you think it could be him?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "I _did _at first, but I don't know...it doesn't make sense. After all, he was attacked by it. If _you_ were controlling the creature, would you let it attack you?"

Dean put his hand to his chest, feeling the wounds. "Definitely not."

"Sometimes objects like that can be used as talismans," Sam said, thinking.

"Talis_men_," Dean corrected.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Maybe he uses that for protection. Maybe that's why the Jersey Devil hasn't come to finish him off." He looked over at Dean, who had lain down on the bed, wrapping his arms around his stomach and groaning. Sam got up and hurried over to him. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, concerned.

Dean just groaned again. "Stomach hurts," he answered, swallowing thickly.

"You gonna be sick?"

Dean gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. "No, don't think so. I'm just gonna close my eyes for a little." He glared at Sam when he felt his brother press his hand against his forehead.

"You're burning up, Dean."

"Doesn't matter Sam. Nothing we can do about it now."

Sam sighed in frustration, knowing his brother was right. "Try and get some sleep," he ordered gently. "We'll go question Jenkins when you're up. Maybe he can help us catch this sick sonofabitch."

* * *

_Let me know what you think! _


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I hope to finish my story by this weekend, but we'll see if that actually happens. I can't remember specifically how many days are supposed to have passed since Dean first got attacked by the Jersey Devil, so if the timeline seems off, just go with it (I guessed that it was 2 days...it's something around that, at least). Also "arterial red" is from psych...I thought it was a funny way of saying blood so I put it in there. Thanks so much to all of you still reading and extra thanks to those who have reviewed! Enjoy :)**

* * *

Dean only managed to sleep for less than an hour and he woke up feeling worse than he had before. He felt hot and sticky and just plain miserable. Dean opened one eye, looking over at Sam who was scouring the books he'd stolen from the library. Kid was really working hard, Dean thought as he closed his eyes again, trying to stop the room from spinning, groaning quietly.

"Dean?" _Or not so quietly._ He started to push himself into a sitting position, knowing he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon.

"Time is it?"

Sam looked down at his watch, "Bout 2:30 in the afternoon. How you feeling?" Sam asked, coming to sit on his own bed, facing Dean.

"Like ass." Dean answered shortly, putting a hand up to his aching head.

"Yeah, I figured," Sam responded. "I've been reading more of the first-hand accounts. Seems like those who caught the mysterious illness got progressively worse." He studied Dean, not liking the way his brother looked at all. "Until the Devil killed them," he added quietly.

"How long after they got sick did the Jersey Devil kill them?" Dean's voice was weak and strained.

"It doesn't seem to follow any set pattern," Sam answered, looking at the notes he'd taken down. "Average is about five days though."

"Five days," Dean repeated, thinking. "So we have what? Three more days?"

"More or less. Don't worry Dean," Sam assured him, seeing the frustrated look that had appeared on Dean's face. "Another day and we'll have this case cracked. You're gonna be fine."

Dean nodded, not feeling Sam's optimism. "Well then I guess we should go see Jenkins now."

Sam studied him closely. "You sure you're up for it? We can wait a little." Sam didn't offer to go alone, still not keen on the idea of separating from his brother even for an hour.

Dean shook his head. "I'm just going to get worse if we wait, right? We should go now, get it over with."

Sam nodded, knowing Dean was right. "Okay, well the bartender said Jenkins lives in an old cottage near the edge of town, a good distance from any other houses. Apparently it's hard to miss."

Dean stood on wobbly legs, putting a hand against the side table to steady himself. "Let's go see the crazy bastard."

* * *

The bartender had been right about Jenkins' cottage – it was _very _hard to miss. The house was small and the front lawn was littered with dozens of different figures and symbols, some which Sam recognized and some which he didn't. "Well he's clearly into _some_ kind of spell work," Dean whispered as they approached the cottage. Sam stood behind him as Dean knocked on the door, stepping forward when no one answered.

"Hello?" Sam called out, "Mr. Jenkins?" He turned to Dean. "Should we just go in?"

Dean gave a slight shake of his head. "I don't know. I'm not sure he's not just waiting for us to come in so he can shoot us...or whammy us with his black magic." They stood on the doorstep for another minute, listening for sounds of movement inside.

Sam raised his gun, trying the door and finding it unlocked. "I'll lead," he told Dean, watching as his brother reached for his own gun. "Let's go."

The interior of the house was just as cluttered as the exterior was and Dean found it hard not to trip over the dozens of books and objects scattered around the floor. Even though he was being extra careful, he still manged to stumble over something every few steps, causing Sam to turn around and shush him. Dean was about to come back with a snarky reply when he caught sight of blood on the floor. It was just a small splotch of arterial red, but Dean was almost positive they were going to find more. "Sam," he whispered anxiously, pointing to the blood.

"Shit," Sam responded, and the two crept quietly towards the back of the house, to the kitchen. Jenkins lay sprawled out on the floor, his chest torn open, his insides hanging out. Sam crouched down in front of the body. "_Dammit."_ He looked up when he heard Dean moan. His brother had gone completely white and Sam was certain he was going to faint. "Hey, hey," Sam said, jumping up to steady him. Sam lead him to a chair, lowering him into it. "Put your head down," he ordered gently, noticing that Dean's pallor had taken on a green tinge. He grabbed the small trash can and brought it over just in case.

Dean moaned again. He had been feeling nauseous even before they'd set foot in Jenkins' house and the gruesome scene did nothing to help settle him. He waited a few seconds before opening his eyes, but the room was still spinning and the metallic smell of blood clung thickly to the air. "I'm gonna be sick," he groaned miserably, and Sam helped him lean over the trash can, steadying his brother as he emptied the meager contents of his stomach.

Sam knelt down, making eye contact with Dean when he'd finally stopped heaving. "Hey, I'm just going to take a quick look around, okay? Then we can go right back to the motel." Dean nodded, resting his head on the table and closing his eyes tightly while Sam went over to examine poor old Mr. Jenkins. "Shit," Sam mumbled, kneeling beside the body.

"What?" Dean asked quietly, not lifting his head up.

"The necklace – the charm. It's missing."

Dean lifted his head slowly, looking over at Sam. "It's gone?"

Sam nodded, still looking at Jenkins' neck where the amulet should have been. "There are abrasions on his neck. It looks like the chain was ripped off." Dean pushed himself to his feet, stumbling over to where Sam was kneeling. He swallowed thickly when he looked down at the body but was able to compose himself.

"You think someone took it?" Dean asked.

"Yeah it looks like. Without the charm, he wasn't protected from the Devil." Sam paused, thinking. "And I guess the Jersey Devil _does_ still make house calls."

Dean shuddered involuntarily at that. "But why would someone want him dead? I thought he was just a harmless old man. Even if he was super creepy."

Sam thought for a second. "Maybe they saw him talking to me at the bar. He always seemed nervous, like someone was watching him. Maybe someone was afraid he knew too much. Let's take a quick look around the house and see if we can find anything that would indicate who would want him killed."

Besides a few spell books, the search of Jenkins' house was futile. Dean seemed to be getting worse by the minute and Sam didn't want to make him trudge around the house any longer since it didn't seem like they were going to find anything of use. "Ready to go?" Sam asked him, recognizing the look of relief that crossed Dean's face. His brother just nodded and the two started to make their way out of the house.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled when he tripped and fell over a pile of books. Sam hurried to help him up.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine. Stupid hoarder. Honestly, who needs this many things?" Dean didn't get up immediately, looking more closely at one of the books that he'd tripped on. He flipped through it but gave up when he got a look at the scrawled, illegible handwriting.

"What's that?" Sam asked him, reaching down to take the book from Dean.

"Dunno, a journal?"

Sam was quiet while he skimmed the journal. "Shit, Dean. He's got stuff on everyone in town in here. _Including_ Gary Bosch and Brian Hopper."

"What's it say?" Dean asked, still sitting on the floor.

"I'm not sure – his writing is harder to interpret than Dad's. Plus, it looks like he used some kind of code." Sam reached a hand out to help Dean stand. "We can figure it out back at the motel."

Dean walk-stumbled his way to the Impala, immediately climbing into the passenger seat and putting his head against the cool glass of the window. Even though the drive to town was less than five minutes, Dean was asleep by the time Sam pulled up to their room.

"Dean," Sam said quietly, shaking his brother's shoulder. "We're here." Sam had to help Dean out of the car, though Dean did rouse himself enough to complain about his "personal space," and for that Sam was grateful.

"Ugh," Dean said when Sam had lowered him down onto his bed. "This _sucks_."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "Sorry, man. I'm going to give Bobby a call, let him know what's going on."

Dean nodded. "I'm just gonna lie here quietly."

Sam laughed. "Yeah you do that. I'll be right outside if you need me." He smirked at Dean's exaggerated eye roll and went outside to make the call to Bobby.

Bobby answered on the first ring. "What've you got, Sam?"

"Jenkins – the old guy from the bar – he's dead." Sam heard Bobby swear on the other end.

"Was it the Jersey Devil?"

"Yeah, looked like. And his necklace – the talisman. It was ripped from his neck. We think maybe he knew too much so someone made sure he would be killed."

"Dammit boy. I think you two are in over your heads."

"I couldn't agree more, Bobby. But there's nothing we can do now. Dean's getting sicker and sicker with every minute that passes. And if all the first-hand accounts are true, the Jersey Devil will be coming for him soon."

"Well what if you two just leave Leeds Point? Maybe Dean will be safe the farther you are from the Jersey Devil's lair."

"I can't risk that, Bobby. No, we need to finish this and soon."

"Well that symbol, the one Jenkins was using for protection. Is there any way you can get your hands on one for Dean?"

"I looked everywhere in that damn house," Sam said dejectedly. "And I don't think anyone in town is going to just offer one up to us."

"Yeah, good point," Bobby agreed.

"But we did find a journal in Jenkins' house," Sam continued. "I haven't gotten a chance to really look at it closely yet, but it looks like Jenkins had a lot of dirt on all the townspeople. Maybe it can help lead us to the person who stole his charm...and the person controlling the Devil."

"Be careful, Sam. I'm on my way to you boys. I should be there in half a day or so, depending on how much longer I can drive before I need to sleep."

"Half a day? You're not in South Dakota?"

"Nah, I left yesterday after we found out about the symbol."

Sam smiled at that. "Thanks, Bobby."

"No problem, kid. Just watch out for your brother until I get there. Make sure you don't rustle any feathers. If you piss off the wrong people, they'll just send the Jersey Devil after the both of ya."

Sam nodded. He'd been thinking that too. "Okay, I will. See you soon." Sam hung up the phone, looking out at the vast forests. The sky was darkening with rain clouds and Sam thought he could hear a faint screeching in the distance. _Hurry, Bobby_.

* * *

_TBC...Yay for Bobby! But will he get there in time...? Please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: I don't know what I was thinking when I said I could finish this this weekend :-/ I'm having enough trouble figuring out what's going to happen next! So hope you like this chapter!**

**I wrote that a little while ago, before decided to STOP WORKING. So this shoulda been posted before, and I'm sorry for the delay. Enjoy!**

* * *

Sam came back into the room, happy to see Dean sitting up, even if he did look awful. "Bobby's on his way," Sam told him, seeing the look of relief cross Dean's face.

"How come?" Dean asked, his teeth chattering.

Sam just stared at him. "Why do _you_ think, Dean? Maybe cause we're in over our heads and you," he said, looking pointedly at his brother, "are in no condition to hunt right now."

"I'm fine," Dean insisted pathetically, though he didn't even seem to be trying to hide the fact that he felt miserable anymore.

Sam softened his voice. "Sure you are. Why don't you try to sleep some more? Bobby said he's at least a half day's drive away."

"All I do is sleep," Dean groused. "Aren't_ you_ tired?"

Sam shook his head. "Nah, I'm fine. I'll sleep when this case is done. And when we're far away from Leeds Point."

"What...are you gonna do...now?" Dean was shaking harder and the words were coming out in harsh gasps. Sam got up, pulling the blankets around Dean's shoulders, trying to push him to lie down but Dean refused to give in.

Sam sighed in frustration. "I'm going to look at Jenkins' journal, see if I can decipher any of it."

Dean nodded jerkily, pushing himself up against the head board. "I wanna help." The look on Dean's face made it clear he was determined to be of use, and Sam knew arguing with him would be futile.

"Here," Sam said, bringing over some of the library books. "Why don't you research the history a little more? Maybe you'll see something I missed."

"Kay," Dean answered, opening one of the books and hunching over it, the comforter still draped around his shoulders making the scene look that much more pathetic. "Sam?"

"Yeah Dean?" Sam asked as sat down at the table.

Dean looked like he was about to say something but he stopped. "Just...don't leave?"

"Where do you think I'm gonna go, man?" Sam asked, confused. He saw a look of embarrassment cross Dean's face.

"Just don't go outside anymore. Not without weapons at least."

Sam nodded in understanding – Jenkins' death had clearly rattled his brother. "Don't worry, man. I'm not intending on going anywhere until Bobby gets here."

Dean seemed satisfied with that answer and he returned to the book Sam had given him.

* * *

Dean looked over at Sam after he had cursed for what seemed like the hundredth time in the last hour. "Not having any luck?"

Sam sighed. "If you thought Dad wrote like Yoda..." he trailed off. "I can't figure out what this journal means at all. You find anything?"

"Maybe." Sam looked up at that.

"Yeah?"

"You said that according to Bobby the person controlling the Devil has to have something that belongs to it, right? Or have some sort of connection?" Sam nodded and Dean continued. "Do you think the same goes for the exorcism?"

Sam paused, thinking. "It would make sense. After all, Bobby said it wasn't like any exorcism we've ever heard of before. Why? Does it say something in there about that?"

Dean bent forward closer to the book, squinting his eyes to focus the words. "Uhh," he started, but stopped suddenly, putting a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes tightly. He broke out into a cold sweat, shaking with chills.

Sam got up quickly, resting a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Dean?" Sam asked. He knelt down by the bed, taking Dean's hand and gently pulling it away from his face to get a look at him. "Hey," he said when he could look his brother in the eyes. "Dean, c'mon man. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

Dean let out a cry of pain and bent forward, reaching out to grasp Sam's arm. "My head," he moaned. Sam squeezed his shoulder, offering what little comfort he could. This time Dean didn't resist as Sam pushed him to lie down and he immediately curled in on himself, moaning again. "S..a..m," he panted, the tightness of his voice conveying the pain he was in.

"Just breathe, Dean," Sam instructed, wishing there was something more he could do.

"The exorcism," he started, pausing as another jolt of pain shot through him. Sam had to lean closer to hear him. "Blood – he was...blood," he spit out in agony.

"What do you mean?" Sam didn't want Dean to speak anymore than was necessary but he wasn't sure where his brother was going with this.

"He was...Mother Leeds'...brother. The Devil's uncle."

"Bloodline," Sam said in realization. Dean closed his eyes, satisfied that his brother understood what he was getting at. Sam looked at him, concerned. "Nice job, bro." Dean didn't answer, trying too hard to breathe through the stabbing pain in his head. Sam quickly got up, grabbing the painkillers that Jo had given Dean for his shoulder. Of course, Dean had refused to take them before, even when the bullet wound was still fresh. He shook out two of the pills, gently shaking Dean to get him to open his eyes.

"What's that?" Dean mumbled quietly.

"Painkillers." Sam cracked open a water bottle, holding it up for Dean to take. Dean stubbornly shook his head.

"No, Sam. Need to be alert."

"And _this_ is alert? How do you expect to help me when you're in so much pain?" Sam asked. He knew it was a low blow, but Dean wasn't being rational. He could see Dean still wasn't going to relent. "Just one, then," Sam compromised. "We're not going anywhere until Bobby gets here anyway."

Sam could see the conflict warring on Dean's face. Finally he nodded, reaching out his hand. "Good," Sam said when he saw him swallow it. "Try and rest. I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

Two hours later, Sam was getting closer to understanding Jenkins' strange way of writing. The old man clearly didn't want anyone else to be able to read his journal and had obscured all of his entries by using some sort of cryptogram. Each seemingly random letter stood for one specific letter in the alphabet, but Sam could only determine the code by using trial and error. Once he figured out the code, though, Sam would be able to see what Jenkins knew about the creepy town of Leeds Point.

Dean had been pretty quiet in the other bed, the painkiller taking the edge off the headache that had dropped him earlier, allowing him to get some much-needed rest. Sam hoped he would sleep straight through until Bobby came, but he knew Dean had an unusually – and annoyingly – high tolerance for pain meds. Chances were he'd be up in another hour or two.

"C'mon Jenkins," Sam whispered to himself. "What did you know?" Sam was matching up the letters in the code with the ones in Jenkins' journal, but it was a tedious job. He could see that Jenkins had suspicions about nearly every town member – and not all of them were relevant to the Jersey Devil. Some of the people were listed for merely giving him dirty looks, a fact which dampened Sam's hopes that this would be the key to the whole case. Maybe he really was just a crazy, paranoid old man.

Sam had deciphered close to ten pages of the journal, coming up with nothing more than baseless accusations. It wasn't until he was half-way through deciphering the eleventh page that Sam realized the work hadn't been in vain. This page wasn't like the rest –it was filled with with dozens of notes and annotations. The crude sketches which filled the margins made the journal eerily reminiscent of his father's own.

Sam's attention immediately fell to the one name which was circled and underlined several times, located right in the center of the page. _Samuel Shrouds_. Why did that name seem so familiar? Sam went over to his brother's bed, grabbing the book Dean had discarded on the floor. He rifled through the book, searching for the page about the 1740 exorcism of the Devil.

_Bingo_, Sam thought when he examined the page. He returned to the journal, working as fast as he could to decode the rest of the entry. Unlike the previous pages, this time Jenkins' suspicions seemed to be backed by irrefutable proof. He had clearly been investigating the Jersey Devil long before the killings began again just a few months ago. "Jesus," Sam murmured when he'd finished reading the page. _Shit Dean_, Sam thought, looking over at his brother who was now shifting restlessly, mumbling in his sleep. _You were right_.

Sam was about to call Bobby to tell him what he'd found when a piercing cry broke the silence of the room. Dean startled awake, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and slowly pulling himself into a sitting position. "Sam?" he asked, confused.

"Dean," Sam said, getting up and grabbing the bag of weapons that was on the floor.

"What was that?" Dean was more aware now, though Sam could tell the painkillers hadn't completely worn off yet. Sam watched as Dean tried to get up, and he hurried to his brother when it was clear Dean was too dizzy to stand on his own.

"I don't know," Sam answered, pushing Dean to sit on the bed. He took out one of the guns and handed it to Dean, taking another for himself. The scream echoed off the mountains again, followed by a resounding boom. _Thunder_, Sam thought, just as he heard the rain pounding down on the roof.

"Sam," Dean insisted, anxious, "that didn't sound like the Jersey Devil."

Sam shook his head. He'd been thinking the same thing – someone was in danger. "No, it didn't," he agreed.

Dean tried to stand again. "We gotta go out there, Sam – someone's in trouble. Devil's gonna kill again."

"_Dean_, sit." Sam was both happy and worried when Dean complied. "You can't go, Dean. You can barely stand." Dean shook his head vigorously, about to protest, but Sam cut him off. "No, listen. If you go out there, you're done, man. If the Jersey Devil is out there, he _will_ finish you off. And we still don't know how to kill him."

Dean knew Sam was making sense, but he didn't want to give in yet. "We can't just let it kill another person, Sam."

Sam shook his head, thinking. "No, we can't. I'll go."

"No, Sam. Not alone."

"We don't really have a choice, Dean. Just let me check it out – make sure whoever is screaming is okay. I'll be ten minutes, tops."

"_Sam,"_ Dean insisted, "_please?_"

That almost broke Sam right there, but he shook his head, resolute. "Ten minutes, Dean. I'll be fine." Sam gave Dean one last look, grabbing the duffel bag and opening the door. The wind was fierce, pulling the door from his grasp and banging it against the motel room. Rain poured down in unrelenting sheets, making it impossible for Sam to see more than a few feet in front of him.

"Sam!" he heard Dean yell from inside the room, obviously pissed. _Just ten minutes_, Sam thought as he braced himself, stepping out into the downpour and heading in the direction of the screams.

* * *

_Stupid, reckless Sam...bwahaha! Please review if you want to find out what happens next!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: So, so, so sorry this took so long to update. I've been having so much trouble trying to figure out where to go from the last chapter - I still don't know who the killer is...I actually think it's good I took longer, because if I had written something a few days ago, I think I would have had the whole mystery much more poorly-figured-out. And I'm glad that I at least took the time to think about it a little. I do not like this chapter at all - I don't like how the words came out and it just was a hard chapter to write. Maybe because there was zero interaction between the brothers and that's always one of my favorite parts to write. I also think it was too choppy, going from Dean to Sam to Dean, but I didn't know how else to transition it, and you needed to see both sides. But this chapter was necessary, and now that it's out of the way, I'll be able to write stuff in the story that I actually want to write. So I do apologize for both the length of time it took me to write this and the overall crappiness of the chapter. Let me know what you think! Next chapter will be up soon (hopefully).**

* * *

"Sam!" Dean cried out again weakly, even though it was obvious Sam could no longer hear him. He tried to stand but had to sit almost immediately when the dizziness threatened to drop him. He punched his fist against the bed in frustration, cursing his body for failing him and his brother for leaving. "Stupid, reckless sonofa..." he trailed off.

Dean allowed himself a moment to regroup, then focused his attention on the pile of notes that Sam had discarded at the table. He stood slowly this time, making sure to get his bearings before taking a step. He stumbled his way over to the table, gratefully sinking into the chair when he got there. "What did you find, Sammy?" he mumbled aloud.

Sam had obviously spent the last few hours translating Jenkins' journal, and though Dean did have some initial trouble interpreting Sam's notes, he was able to understand the gist of his findings. "Samuel Shrouds," Dean said aloud, seeing that Sam had underlined the name several times. He looked at the open book sitting on the table and saw the section that Sam had highlighted. "The priest?" Dean paused, trying to make sense of everything. _What was he missing?_

Jenkins had written down several of the brothers' chief suspects on the same page that had contained the reference to Samuel Shrouds, and Dean assumed that this was the key to the whole mystery. Heck, it may even have been what ended up getting him killed. But who was the killer, and who had wanted Jenkins dead? Dean quickly scanned the journal, recognizing several of the names and studying the connections that Jenkins had made between them and Samuel Shrouds. _Shit, Sammy, _Dean thought when he got to the last name on the list.

Dean looked up, startled when he heard another screech. This time, it was most definitely not the scream of a woman in danger but the inhuman cry of the Jersey Devil. "Sam," Dean whispered, pushing himself up off the chair. It had been 8 minutes since Sam had left, and Dean considered that far too long. He grabbed his jacket off the other chair, doing his best to ignore the light-headed feeling that overtook him. Somehow he managed to get his boots on and tied, and he staggered to the door. He knew he should barely be able to walk, but the thought that Sam could be in danger lent him strength. He ducked his head, bracing himself against the wind and the rain, and hurried out into the storm.

* * *

Sam knew that it was a foolish idea to run out after the Jersey Devil with no backup in the middle of a torrential rainstorm. It was something Dean would do, sure, but not something Sam, the level-headed college student, would do.

Sam could barely see where he was going as he ran out into the night, the rain forming a thick sheet of water around him. He merely headed in the direction of the screams which seemed to be growing louder and louder the closer he got to the edge of the forest.

He stopped running when he reached a path leading up to the woods, thinking how strangely similar it seemed to the one he and Dean had taken the other day. But that would be impossible – he was nowhere near that location. Maybe it was just the darkness and the rain messing with his vision, but Sam felt a chill run through him at the sense of deja vu.

"Hello!" he yelled into the darkness, grabbing onto tree branches to help in his quest up the muddy path. "Is anyone there? Do you need help?" He stood still, waiting. His question was answered by another chilling scream. "Hold on!" he shouted, climbing faster. Lightning lit up the sky, followed almost immediately by a loud peal of thunder. "Shit," Sam muttered as he slipped, losing his footing on the rocky terrain.

Another bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating the sky. In that second, Sam saw a familiar figure flying through the trees, the glowing red eyes leaving no doubt in his mind that it was the Jersey Devil. Sam watched in awe and horror as the creature darted upwards, emitting a haunting, painful cry; the same cry that had brought him out into the woods in the first place. _Shit_, Sam thought, dismayed. _It was all a trap._

Sam turned to run, knowing he was in over his head. But the ground was saturated with water and his boots found no purchase on the muddy path. He felt himself going down just as he heard the returning cry of the Jersey Devil. He closed his eyes, praying it would be quick, hoping that Dean wouldn't be the one to find him.

* * *

Even though Dean had known he was in bad condition, he had refused to believe that he was too weak to save his brother. But the pounding rain and violent winds were quickly becoming too much for him to handle and on more than one occasion he had been certain he was going to collapse. Somehow, though, he'd managed to push on, finding the same path that Sam had followed and climbing up it, slowly but surely.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, desperately praying for an answering call. But the only response he got was the howling wind and so he kept stumbling along. He had just reached the crest of the hill when he saw the Jersey Devil circling the skies. "Oh no," he whispered, certain he had been too late.

Just then, a flash of lightning lit up the woods and he could just make out the outline of a figure standing a few hundred feet ahead of him. A freakishly tall human figure that he would recognize anywhere. "Sam!" Dean cried out, overjoyed to see his brother alive. He stumbled forward, no longer caring if he took a face plant in the mud. But Sam didn't turn, and Dean watched in horror as another figure approached him, shotgun in hand. "No!" Dean cried, recognizing the man. "Sam watch out!" he yelled in vain, horrified as Sam stumbled to the ground just as the Jersey Devil swooped down, heading straight for him.

Dean raced towards his fallen brother, trying to shield him from whatever evil – human or inhuman – threatened him. But his legs gave way and he found himself lying in a puddle of muddy rainwater, watching the horrific scene unfold. "Gary! No!" Dean cried out one more time as the figure raised his gun, taking aim at his brother. "Sam," Dean tried once more, sputtering and choking on the water pouring down on him. And because there was nothing more he could do, he closed his eyes, unwilling and unable to watch his little brother die.

* * *

_Does that last scene remind anyone else of the scene at the end of AHBL 1? Cause that's what I'm picturing right now..._


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I don't have anything to say! I wish I did - ummmm. Oh yes. Thanks for the reviews, guys! I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm having fun writing so hopefully there will be another up today or tomorrow. Thanks again!**

* * *

Sam braced himself, eyes squeezed tight, waiting for the Devil to attack. He vaguely thought he heard his brother calling for him, but that was impossible. No way Dean could make it all the way out here – not in the condition he was in. The Devil let out one last horrific screech and Sam was certain that was it.

"Gary! No!" the voice was weak, but Sam would recognize it anywhere. He looked up just as Gary Bosch raised his shotgun. Before he even had the chance to register what was happening, Sam heard a shot ring out, echoing off the mountains. He looked down at his chest, shocked when there was no blood there, no wound at all. Another shot rang out, followed by a bloodcurdling scream, and Sam realized he had not been Gary's target.

Sam turned to see the Jersey Devil writhing, a look of pain and surprise etched across its grotesque features. It gave one last cry and then took off, darting up into the night sky and leaving Sam sitting there, stunned and in disbelief.

"Sam?" Dean's quiet, pain-filled gasp immediately grabbed Sam's attention. He got up, hurrying to his brother and catching him as he started to fall to the ground again. Dean lay there, panting and gasping for breath.

"What are you doing here, man?" Sam chastised, though there was no venom behind his words.

"I was worried," Dean said, shivering violently. He looked like he wanted to say more but he couldn't stop shaking long enough to speak.

"Shit, Dean. You look awful," Sam said, stating the obvious. Dean nodded jerkily, pointing to where Gary Bosch stood, shotgun still raised.

"He saved you," Dean said, seeming just as surprised by that fact as Sam had been. "I thought _he _was the killer," he added quietly.

"Yeah me too," Sam admitted. Gary lowered the gun, approaching the brothers slowly. "Gary? Thanks man. For, uh, saving our lives." Sam offered pathetically.

Gary just nodded, glaring at them. "Why were you out here?" he asked, and Dean was taken aback by the coldness in his voice.

"We heard a woman screaming," Sam answered him. "We just wanted to help."

Gary's features softened slightly. "Wasn't no woman in trouble," he said simply. "You shouldn't be out here. It's too dangerous."

Dean nodded, shaking more violently now. "Trust me...we know."

"What did you shoot it with?" Sam asked, curious about what could have caused the Jersey Devil to react the way it had.

"Consecrated bullets. They won't kill it, but they'll keep it away for a little while."

Sam looked interested at that. "Consecrated bullets? Consecrated by whom?"

Gary just glared at him, but that was all the answer Sam needed. This whole thing – the exorcism and resurrection – was somehow related to Samuel Shrouds and his descendents. Sam was certain of that now and he was just as certain that those bullets had been consecrated by a member of the Leeds family.

"Are you okay?" Sam looked over to see Gary crouching by Dean, surprised at the concern he heard in his voice. Dean mumbled something that Sam couldn't hear, but he saw Gary reaching down to offer him a hand. Sam quickly hurried to his brother's side, still wary of the strange man.

"I got him," he told Gary, gently slinging Dean's arm over his shoulder, worried that he seemed to be holding up almost all of Dean's weight. He could feel the heat coming off his brother even though Dean was still wracked with relentless chills. "Hey man," Sam whispered quietly to his brother, "you ready to get out of the rain?" Dean didn't answer, but Sam felt him nod against his shoulder.

"Do you want me to carry your bag?" Gary spoke up, motioning to Sam's duffel.

"Uhh," Sam hesitated. "Yeah, okay thanks," he agreed once he realized there was no way he could support Dean and carry the heavy bag as well.

Sam shifted his brother's weight, getting a better grip around his shoulders. "Come on, Dean. Help me out a little here." Dean didn't answer, but Sam could tell he was trying his best to walk on his own. They stumbled their way down the path and Sam was somehow able to keep them both standing. By the time they emerged from the woods, Dean was mostly dead weight against Sam's shoulder.

"Do you need any help with him?" It was the first thing Gary had said since they'd begun their trek out of the woods and Sam was momentarily startled.

Sam looked at the man who had saved his life, still unsure whether or not he should trust him. But Sam could feel his arms getting tired and knew it would be a struggle to get Dean back to the motel. If Gary had wanted them dead, all he had to do was let the Jersey Devil kill them. And he _did _have questions for the man. "Yeah, thanks Gary," he found himself answering, taking a little more of Dean's weight so Gary could sling Dean's other arm over his own shoulder.

By the time the three made their way back to the motel, Dean was barely conscious, hanging limply in their arms. Gary helped Sam open the door to their room and they deposited Dean on the bed closest to the bathroom. "You need any more help?" he asked Sam gruffly. Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I got this. Thanks again – for saving us."

Gary nodded. "You two aren't tourists," he said, matter of fact. "And you're not reporters either."

Sam looked up, surprised. He stuttered, trying to find an answer. Sam was about to make up some other lie when he heard Dean shifting around on the bed, trying to sit up.

"We're hunters," Dean croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam looked at him, shocked at the honesty. He could see that Gary looked surprised as well, but not as confused as Sam would have expected.

"Hunters?" Gary paused, clearly trying to understand the implication of that. "Of creatures like the Jersey Devil?"

Sam answered when he saw that Dean's energy was spent. "Yeah, we're here because of all the killings that have been happening recently. Actually," Sam chuckled a little in embarrassment, "we thought you had something to do with it."

Gary's eyes clouded over with something that seemed like anger and Sam immediately regretted saying that. "I'm not a killer, boy."

"Yeah uh – I know. We know that...now." Sam could feel his palms sweating. "Sorry if I offended you, sir. We just –"

He was cut off by Dean who had managed to pull himself into a seated position, his back against the headboard. "Gary," he said, quietly again, "we know that you're a descendent of Mrs. Leeds." Dean paused, breaking off into a harsh cough. "And we know that the person controlling the Jersey Devil has to be a blood relative." Sam looked at Dean. They didn't _really_ know that; it had just been a guess. Sam realized what Dean was doing though – trying to see if Gary knew more about the Devil. "We just assumed it was you. Boy am I glad we were wrong..." he finished, trailing off.

Sam watched as Gary's features softened. The older man seemed to have a soft spot for Dean. "How did you figure all that out?" he asked, obviously impressed with their detective work.

Sam pointed to the stacks of books that were piled on the table. "Lots of research," he explained.

Gary nodded, waiting a minute before going on. "It's my brother," he finally admitted. "It's my brother controlling the damn thing."

Sam was shocked at that. "You have a brother?"

"Well, step brother. But yes. You may have met him – his name is Brian. Annoyingly cheerful fella."

The brothers looked at one another. "Brian Hopper?" Dean asked, stunned.

"So you _have _met him."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, we've met him alright. But why would he want to kill all those people?" He looked up to meet Gary's nervous eyes.

"I have to go," Gary said, turning quickly.

"Wait! Gary – we need your help," Sam pleaded.

"I can't," he shook his head. "He's still my family." With that, Gary hurried out the open door, slamming it shut.

Sam was about to follow after him, but stopped when he heard Dean's soft moaning. His brother had his arms wrapped tightly around him in a futile attempt to get warm. Sam looked at Dean and then down at his own clothes, realizing they were both still drenched. "Come on, Dean," Sam said, helping him stand and leading him to the bathroom. Dean didn't need hypothermia to add to his long list of ailments, Sam decided, turning on the shower full-blast and waiting for it to heat up. Gary Bosch and the case of the Jersey Devil would have to wait a little longer.

* * *

_Who saw that one coming? By that one I mean the fact that Gary's the good guy and Brian's the bad one? Although I pathetically only really gave you 2 suspects, so it had to be one of them..._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: More hurting in this chapter ;-) Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

Sam sat Dean down on the toilet, struggling to pull the shirt off of his nearly-unconscious brother while trying to keep him from falling. "Dean," Sam said, worrying at his brother's complete unawareness. Dean looked back at him with hooded eyes.

"Sorry Sammy," he offered, "just so tired. And cold."

"I know, man. That's why you need to get these wet clothes off, okay? Ten more minutes – we'll get you warmed up and then you can sleep all you want."

Dean nodded, lifting his arms up while Sam pulled off his t-shirt. The cuts from the Jersey Devil stood out, stark red against the paleness of Dean's chest. Sam hissed at the sight and Dean brought a hand up to the cuts, wincing when he touched them. "S'bad Sam?"

Sam shook his head slightly even though they both knew he was lying. "Nah, you're gonna be fine. Just a flesh wound, right?" Sam stood then, draping Dean's arm around his shoulder and helping him to his feet. Dean let Sam help him pull the sodden jeans off, only because he knew there was no way he could do it on his own.

"I'm okay now, Sam," Dean spoke up, his teeth chattering. Sam looked at his brother standing in just his boxers, shivering uncontrollably and almost laughed at the ridiculousness of Dean's statement.

"Dean," Sam said seriously. "We both know that's not true. Just let me help you – you can barely stand."

Dean shook his head. "Na ah. Just –" he paused, appraising the situation. "You can leave the door open if you want. I'll just take a quick shower."

Sam was about to protest, but he knew Dean would rather die than let Sam help him shower. "_Fine_," Sam said, making sure that Dean could hear the exasperation in his voice. "Yell if you need _anything_. Okay?"

"Okay, _Samantha_." Sam walked to the door, studying Dean once more.

"Pain in the ass," Sam mumbled, not unkindly, and Dean smirked back at him.

"Love ya too, bro."

Dean peeled off his boxers, stepping under the hot water. Even though the water warmed him, he couldn't stop shivering. He just wanted this all to be over so they could get out of here and he could sleep for a _week_.

"Dean!" he heard Sam shouting. "I'm gonna leave some clothes for you by the door. You okay?"

Dean smiled at Sam's mother-hen routine. "I'm good," he called back, as loudly as he could. He stood under the shower for a few more minutes, relishing the warmth and wishing he could stay there for hours. But the cuts on his chest were stinging badly and he didn't think he could stand much longer. He shut the water off, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself. _Shit_ he thought, looking over at the clothes Sam had left him. How the hell was he going to get those on?

Dean toweled off, closing the bathroom door and sitting on the toilet. He was able to pull on the boxers and the sweat pants Sam had left, but the cuts were stinging so badly he didn't want to even try to put a shirt on. He waited a few more seconds before standing slowly and getting his bearings. Sam looked up when Dean exited the bathroom.

"Hey man," Sam said, coming over. "Do you need help with the shirt?" he pointed to the t-shirt that Dean was still holding in his hand.

Dean just shook his head. "Think I'm gonna go without it for now," he said.

Sam frowned at that, "Won't you be warmer with a shirt on?"

Dean nodded. "Probably. But the cuts sting like a mother whenever anything touches them."

"Oh," Sam answered, and Dean could tell that he was worried. "Okay, well why don't you try to sleep a little? I'm going to get out of these clothes."

Dean climbed onto the bed. "Sounds like a wonderful idea." He crawled under the covers and closed his eyes, hoping that his body would allow him the sleep that he so badly needed.

* * *

Dean had just drifted off when he was jolted awake by a pounding at the door. The pounding came, harder and louder now, and Dean wondered who the heck was being so annoying this late at night. "Sam," he croaked out, his eyes still closed. When Sam didn't answer, Dean opened his eyes. He could hear the shower running, surprised that it had only been a few minutes since he'd first closed his eyes.

Dean slowly got up from the bed, wincing as his wounds pulled with the movement. The knocking came again. "I'm coming," Dean mumbled, becoming more and more annoyed at the late-night visitor. He stumbled over to the peep-hole and looked in. A very tired, annoyed, and worried-looking Bobby stood at the door, about to raise his fist to pound again.

Dean opened the door quickly, flashing a crooked smile at Bobby. Bobby just stood there, studying him.

"Boy, you look like hell," he said, pulling Dean into an awkward half-hug, mindful of his injured chest.

"It's good to see you too, Bobby," Dean replied affectionately. He stepped aside so Bobby could come into the room. "Sam's in the shower," he told him in answer to his unasked question. Dean walked back over to his bed, sitting down on the edge. Bobby pulled up a seat from the table.

"What have you boys gotten yourselves into?" Bobby couldn't take his eyes off the jagged-looking cuts.

Dean looked down self-consciously, putting a hand to his chest. "Apparently the Jersey Devil _is_ real," he answered. "And he's an evil sonofabitch."

Bobby nodded just as Sam came out of the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes, his hair still sopping wet. "Bobby," Sam said, clearly relieved. "Thank God you're here." Sam walked over to the other bed, sitting down and facing Bobby and his brother. "We've got a lot to tell you."

"So you know who's controlling the Devil?" Bobby asked once Sam had outlined everything they knew. Dean had tried his best to participate but it was all he could do to stay conscious.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, this guy – Brian Hopper. Apparently he's a distant relative of Mother Leeds. And he's also the step-brother of the owner of this motel who saved our lives a few hours ago."

"Any idea why he's doing it?"

"Honestly? I don't think it's anything specific. I think maybe he's trying to avenge the centuries that his family has endured of being blamed for the Jersey Devil. Even so, I can't see why he would just start killing people all of the sudden."

Bobby nodded, thinking. "It's possible he came across something recently that led him to find the ancient exorcism spell. Or maybe he just went crazy after all these years living in this town."

Dean snorted. "Sure seemed crazy," he added, thinking of the overly-cheerful man they'd met in the bar who insisted that Leeds Point was a wonderful town. "This whole town is crazy," Dean offered.

Sam agreed. "Even if Brian is the one controlling the Devil, it's still so suspicious how everyone seems to just go along with it."

"Maybe the history of the town has hardened them towards such deaths?" Bobby suggested. "Who knows. But we need to stop this Brian guy before he kill more innocent people," Bobby added grimly.

"Yeah and before the Devil kills us," Sam pointed out. "And if Dean's been targeted, we need to be extra careful what our next move is. I'm not sure we should be going out into the woods again any time soon. Although," Sam paused, thinking, "Gary shot the Devil with consecrated rounds. Consecrated, I'm assuming, by one of his relatives. And the creature stopped its attack and left us alone for the time being."

"You think he'd let us use some?" Bobby asked.

"I'm not sure. He left here pretty quickly once he told us about Brian. We'll have to convince him somehow. Dean?" Sam looked at his brother who was curling in on himself, panting. Sam got up quickly, kneeling by his side. "Hey man, talk to me."

"Diz..." Dean broke off, closing his eyes tightly and panting harder. "Dizzy. And...hot." Sam put a hand to Dean's forehead, feeling the heat coming off of him. Dean pushed Sam's off his head, trying to stand. "Gonna be sick," he choked out when Sam tried to get him to lie down. Sam grabbed his arm, keeping him from falling, and helped him stumble into the bathroom. He raised the toilet seat up, putting an arm around Dean's back as he started heaving.

Dean choked, spitting up bile and whatever food was left in his stomach. He could taste blood, metallic and bitter in the back of his throat. "Sam," he sputtered once he could take a breath. "Blood." Sam saw the blood-tinged water and swore quietly.

"Okay, it's okay. He comforted. Are you done?"

Dean couldn't speak, but he nodded against Sam's arm. Sam helped him stumble back into the bedroom, lowering him onto the bed and pulling the covers around him. "Bobby and I got this, Dean. You just try and sleep." Sam returned to the bathroom, flushing the toilet and wetting a washcloth with cool water. He went back into the room, placing the towel on Dean's sweaty brow. Dean looked up at him with weary, bloodshot eyes. "We'll fix this," Sam insisted, and Dean closed his eyes, trusting his brother's words.

Sam turned, looking at Bobby's concerned face. "How the hell are we going to fix this, Bobby?"

* * *

_Yay Bobby! Review? Pretty please :)_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Sorry that update took so long - I've been extra busy these last few days. This chapter is still kinda short, but its 4 AM and I just want to post it. Thanks to those of you who reviewed!**

_Previously: Sam turned, looking at Bobby's concerned face. "How the hell are we going to fix this, Bobby?" _

* * *

Bobby didn't answer, studying Dean with all the concern of a father. "How bad is it, Sam?" He asked, echoing Dean's question from earlier.

Sam looked at his brother, then back at Bobby. "Bad," he said, the admission painful. "I don't know how much more of this he can take."

Bobby nodded. "Well then I guess we better figure out how to get rid of the Devil."

"Yeah actually, I've been thinking about that. What if we just use the exorcism that they used in 1740? Banish the thing for 100 years?"

Bobby narrowed his eyes at Sam, knowing he would never suggest that unless he was desperate. "That's only a temporary solution at best, Sam. And we have no idea if it will actually work."

"Do you have any other suggestions?" Sam asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. "We're running out of time."

"I'll do some more research, then. Why don't you try and get some sleep? You look like you haven't slept for days."

_Probably cause I haven't_, Sam thought, smirking. "I'll sleep when this case is finished and the Jersey Devil is gone. I'm gonna go see if Gary will talk to me."

Bobby sighed but didn't argue, knowing Sam wouldn't rest until his brother was okay. "Fine, but be careful. And don't go running off into the woods alone again, ya idgit."

* * *

The rain was still coming down in sheets when Sam hurried over to the front office. There was a light on and Sam could see a figure sitting at the desk. He rapped on the door. "Gary!" Sam shouted over the pounding rain. When Gary didn't get up, Sam banged even harder. "Gary! Let me in! I just want to talk." He saw Gary get up and walk slowly to the door, opening it a crack.

"What do you want? Gary asked, annoyed.

"I need your help." Gary glared at him, ready to close the door again. "_Please_," Sam all but begged. "You're my only hope."

Gary studied him again and Sam could only assume that he read the desperation in his eyes, because he opened the door more widely. "You've got five minutes," he told Sam, stepping aside so he could enter the tiny office.

Sam sat in the chair across from Gary's desk looking across at the old man. He hadn't realized before how fragile he looked; how worn down. "Gary," Sam began carefully, knowing that if he said the wrong things Gary would most definitely kick him out. "I need to know how Brian is controlling the Jersey Devil." Sam waited a minute, but Gary seemed to want him to continue. "And I need to know how to get rid of it."

Gary's face hardened, a look of anger flashing across his face. Sam braced himself for a tirade, ready to have his last hope deny him. But the tirade never came and Sam watched as Gary's expression melted into one of weariness. "I don't know how to get rid of it," he told Sam honestly. "If I did know, I would have done so when all these killings started."

Sam listened intently, believing everything Gary said. He tried a different tactic then. "Well do you know why Brian's doing it? Why he brought back the Devil?"

Gary sighed. "He's always been a little _off_," he admitted, "always so interested in our family's history. It all seemed a little too morbid if you ask me," Gary huffed. "But I don't know why he brought that _thing_ back. And I don't know why he's killing people."

"But you_ did_ know, didn't you? You knew that he was the reason for the Devil's return."

Gary looked down at that. "I suspected it. I had heard him saying something a few months ago, about how he'd found some old books in the attic of our old house. Spell books or something. But I didn't _believe_ he would actually try something like this."

Sam nodded eagerly, leaning forward in his chair. "Gary, this is very important. Do you know if he had anything, any sort of pendant or keepsake from the time when the Devil first starting terrorizing Leeds Point?"

Gary shook his head. "There were a lot of things like that – our family was big on keeping anything remotely valuable or historical."

"Oh," Sam said, deflated. "Do you know where I could find him now?"

"I haven't heard from him in several days." Gary looked at him suspiciously again, "What are you going to do?"

"Whatever we have to do to stop him." Sam told him, regretting it immediately when Gary stood up angrily. Sam continued, trying to calm him. "Gary, we _have_ to stop him. He's killing people – innocent people."

"He's my _brother_," Gary pleaded, and Sam couldn't help but feel sorry for him. But then he thought of his brother, lying in the motel bed, deathly ill.

"And he's killing _my_ brother," Sam countered. "Look, Gary – I have a friend here who knows a lot about this stuff. We'll go talk to Brian, see if we can't get him to let us banish the Devil. I promise we'll try our best not to hurt him."

Gary studied Sam, clearly wanting to believe him. He nodded carefully. "Try the woods," Gary told him. "Mother Leeds house."

Sam shuddered, remembering the creepy house. "Thank you, Gary. Seriously – thank you." Gary didn't say anything as Sam hurried out of the office, back to Dean and Bobby.

Bobby was sitting by Dean's bed when Sam opened the door, and he met Sam with worried eyes. "He okay?" Sam asked, even though he already knew the answer.

"The same," Bobby told him. "Had a nightmare a little while ago – sounded pretty intense."

Sam sighed. "Yeah I've been meaning to talk to him about that. Haven't gotten a chance though with all that's been going on."

Bobby nodded knowingly. "I haven't had much luck with the research," he said, motioning to the notes in front of him. "I think we may just have to go with your plan. But even that won't be a piece of cake. Did you find out anything from the motel owner?"

"A little – he basically just confirmed what we already suspected. Brian must have some keepsake from the Leeds family that he's using to control the Devil, but Gary didn't have any idea what it could be."

"Any idea where Brian is now?"

"The last place we want to be right now," Sam told him grimly. "Mother Leeds house – way up in the woods."

"Damn."

"Yeah my thoughts exactly. But we have to go soon. Dean doesn't have much time and I don't want to know what Brian will do if he suspects we're getting close to stopping him."

Dean stirred in the bed, mumbling softly. Sam reached out a hand to feel his forehead. "Dammit. He's burning up. We need to end this _now_, Bobby."

"Couldn't agree more, kid. But we can't go out half-cocked like you did a few hours ago. We make a plan, take the right precautions. What about Dean?"

"We can't leave him, Bobby. You shoulda seen poor Jenkins. And the Devil got him while he was in his own home. No. We have to take Dean with us."

"You're right," Bobby agreed, though he knew it was just going to make the job that much more difficult. "Let's get to work, then. We don't have much time."

* * *

_I'm SO tired. This was a bad idea. Please review! :)_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N**: **It made me SO happy waking up this morning to so many wonderful reviews! Made staying up so late to post it totally worth it! So thanks for your reviews, guys – they really motivate me to write more. Which is why you're getting THIS chapter now :) Only a few more left – hope you enjoy it! :P**

* * *

Bobby and Sam spent the next few hours scouring every source, looking for some surefire way to kill the Jersey Devil. Though they hadn't found anything that would help them on that front yet, Sam _had _found plenty more first-hand accounts of Jersey Devil encounters and they only made him more and more worried about his brother. Apparently vomiting blood was one of the final symptoms that arose before the Jersey Devil claimed its victims.

But even with the compounding fear, Sam could feel his eyes drifting shut, his body indicating its desperate need for sleep. He kept trying to fight it, though, certain if he just looked a _little_ harder, he'd find a solution to this whole mess and a cure for his brother. Sam let his eyes close again, telling himself it would just be for a second...

"Oh for Pete's sake!" Bobby shouted after Sam had jolted awake for the fourth time in the last hour. "Would you just get some rest?"

"No," Sam said, shaking his head back and forth. "Gotta keep researching." The heaviness in his voice betrayed the weariness he felt.

Bobby got up from his chair, coming to stand by Sam's bed, closing the book that Sam had spread open in front of him. "Son. It's still early – we can't fight this creature in broad daylight anyway. And you can't save your brother if you're too tired to stand." Bobby added, knowing which cards to play. "I'll wake you in a few hours. But you need to rest. This isn't normal _or_ good for a person."

"Just a little longer," Sam insisted, his voice pleading.

"I'll keep looking, Sam. I promise. If there's something there, I _will_ find it."

Sam hesitated a moment before nodding. He could feel his eyes growing heavy again and he knew Bobby was right. He couldn't keep this up much longer. "Yeah okay," he relented, laying back against the pillows. "But just for a few hours."

"You got it, kid," Bobby said fondly, pulling the blanket up over Sam. "Sleep tight."

* * *

Bobby returned to his notes, knowing he probably wouldn't find any solution to their problem, despite what he'd just told Sam. He and Sam had looked just about everywhere – there was no information _to _be found. Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't keep looking.

He had been deep in concentration, looking through some of the books that Sam had stolen from the library, when he heard Dean start to moan. Bobby dragged his chair next to Dean's bed, waiting to see if he was okay. Dean blinked awake, his brow furrowed in pain. "Bobby?" he rasped.

"I'm right here, Dean," Bobby soothed. "How are you feeling?"

Dean groaned, bringing a hand up to his head. "Like I went on a week-long bender and now have the worst hangover in the history of the world." He shivered then, his teeth chattering together. Dean tried to push himself up against the head board and Bobby moved to help him. Once Dean was sitting straight up, he had to close his eyes against the dizziness.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, keeping a hand near Dean.

Dean nodded tightly. "Give me a sec," he murmured. When he felt confident that the room had stopped spinning, he opened his eyes, looking over at Sam, sound asleep in the other bed. "Oh thank God he's finally sleeping," Dean said, grinning slightly.

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "Thought he'd never give in."

Dean motioned to Bobby's notes. "Did you find out anything useful?"

Bobby didn't want to dampen Dean's hopes, but he knew the boy could always tell when he was less than truthful. "Sorry, Dean," he told him, watching the expression on the kid's face crumble slightly. "Seems like not too many people have tried to fight the Jersey Devil in the past. And those who have haven't had much success."

"Don't worry about it," Dean told Bobby, clearly trying to make the older hunter feel better. "I'll be fine."

"Dean." Bobby said sternly. "Sam and I – we read more accounts of other victims. I know you're not feeling better," he could tell that the older Winchester was growing weary again and he had yet to stop shivering. "You don't need to hide it from me."

Dean looked down for a minute and Bobby was shocked when he heard the boy bite back a sob. "Yeah, I uh," Dean started, hesitating for a minute when his voice broke slightly. He brought a hand up to his forehead again, "don't feel good," he spit out and Bobby almost laughed at how hard it was for Dean to admit that.

"I _know_ that, ya idgit. You know you can't hide anything from me. Can I get you anything?"

Dean kept his head down, and Bobby was worried for a moment that the kid was crying. "You got any whiskey?" Dean asked, lifting his head and flashing Bobby a crooked grin.

"How bout some water instead?" Bobby asked, getting up and retrieving a glass to fill. "Whiskey is definitely not going to make you feel better right now." Bobby filled the glass with water and brought it back to Dean. "Small sips," he instructed and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Yes, _mother_." But Dean stopped after just a few sips anyway, the water he had drunk not sitting well in his still fractious stomach.

"That gonna stay down?" Bobby asked, eyeing him carefully.

Dean gulped but nodded. "Yeah, think so." He put the still-full glass on the night stand and looked over at Bobby. "So what's the plan, then?"

Bobby took a seat in the chair. "Well, Sam did have an idea before. I know you won't be happy with it, but right now it's all we've got."

"Go on," Dean instructed once he realized that Bobby was waiting for him to say something.

Bobby cleared his throat. "Well Sam thinks – actually we both do, now – that our only solution is to use the original exorcism, the one that Samuel Shrouds used. It won't get rid of the Jersey Devil for good, but it should effectively banish it for a long enough time."

Dean interrupted him, clearly unhappy. "What's a long enough time, Bobby? So he'll start killing people again in 100 years? We can't just leave it open like that."

"Dean," Bobby said firmly, trying to calm him. "Listen, Sam and I both thought about this a lot. We know it's not the best solution, but we're running out of time. And the Jersey Devil is killing people _now_. If we can't come up with something, more people will undoubtedly die. Including you."

"So this _is_ about me, isn't it? That's why Sam's so eager to settle with this solution."

"He's not settling, Dean. Trust me, if there was something else, _anything_, we would try it. But there's only so much information out there." Bobby could tell Dean was still upset. "Dean. Hey, look at me. The Jersey Devil had pretty much left people alone until Brian summoned it a few months ago. In 100 years, Brian will no longer be around. We'll destroy all of the Leeds' keepsakes and antiques – anything that could be used to summon and control the Jersey Devil again. This solution could be more permanent than you think."

Dean sat quietly, but Bobby could tell his words had made an impact. "Yeah, okay," he whispered. "When is this going to go down?"

Bobby studied Dean, not liking how the boy looked at all. He looked like he was about to pass out again and he'd only been up for a half hour or so. "Tonight. We need to do this tonight," Bobby told him, knowing it was imperative for Dean's sake that they exorcise the Devil as soon as possible.

"Where?" Dean asked. He still didn't know about Sam's conversation with Gary.

"Mother Leeds' house." Bobby saw Dean shudder at that. "Apparently that's where Brian likes to hide out."

"Weirdo," Dean mumbled under his breath right before he broke off into a painful-sounding, full-bodied coughing fit. Bobby immediately got up from his chair, crouching near Dean, trying to see if he could help. Dean continued coughing, his body bent nearly in half. He felt like his lungs were being ripped out of his body, could once again taste blood coating his tongue, his mouth. He felt Bobby's arm around his back, steadying him. When the coughing finally subsided, Dean fell back against Bobby's arms, confident he would catch him.

"It's okay, you're okay," he heard Bobby soothing him. Dean looked down at the carpet, seeing it stained with drops of blood. Bobby saw it too and he heard him swear quietly. Dean was completely spent, his energy gone. He closed his eyes, his head bent back against Bobby's chest, listening to Bobby's soft mantra. Dean smiled even though his head was pounding and his throat felt like sandpaper. He had Sam and Bobby here, both of them looking after him. Dean fell asleep against Bobby's chest, feeling safe for the first time in nearly a year.

* * *

_They'll be hunting the Devil next chapter...Let me know what you think and I'll write it as fast as possible!_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Hope everyone had a great holiday! This is a longer chapter and yet, amazingly, we haven't really gotten to the "fight" yet. Next chapter for sure. Thanks for all your reviews! Keep 'em coming :)**

* * *

Sam woke up hours later, surprised at how soundly he'd slept. "Bobby?" Sam called out, eyes still closed. "Time is it?" When Bobby didn't answer, Sam turned to look at the clock, squinting to make out the numbers. He shot up when he realized what they read. "Five o'clock!" Sam looked around, ready to yell at Bobby for forgetting to wake him, but he closed his mouth when he saw the scene next to Dean's bed.

Bobby was asleep, his head tilted back against the bed and Dean was snoring softly, leaning back against Bobby. Sam smiled at the two of them and got up to stretch. He went into the bathroom and freshened up and when it seemed like Dean and Bobby weren't going to be waking up any time soon, Sam decided it would be a good opportunity to go out and get some food. If they were going to be hunting the Jersey Devil tonight, they needed to make sure they ate well.

Sam left a note on the bed in case Dean or Bobby woke up while he was out and hurried out the door, knowing he had to be quick. Sam took the Impala because he still didn't want to risk walking around the town unarmed. Unlike the previous times he'd been to town, this time Sam was shocked at how deserted it was. Sure, there _had_ been a big rainstorm, but it was relatively nice out now, if a bit humid. Sam shivered, getting the distinct feeling that something was up. _The calm before the storm_, he thought wryly.

Luckily, the local diner was open, and Sam hurried in after parking the car. He was greeted by the same waitress who had served Sam and Dean the first day they'd been there, but she seemed decidedly less cheerful. She wasn't rude, by any means, but her eyes seemed distant, her expression weary. "Do you need a table?" she asked, not unkindly.

Sam shook his head. "Just a menu, please." She handed him the menu and he scanned it over, trying to decide what to get for his brother and Bobby. He knew Dean was feeling shitty and would most-likely turn down anything Sam brought home, but he hadn't eaten in days and he needed to get his energy up, especially since they were taking him with them tonight. Sam went to the counter, ordering chicken soup for his brother, a burger for Bobby, and a chicken sandwich for himself. Luckily, the food came quickly – Sam was starting to feel uncomfortable in the nearly-empty diner. He paid the bill and hurried back out to the Impala, anxious to get back to the motel room.

Bobby stirred when Sam opened the door, looking over at Sam. "Aren't you two cute?" Sam cooed, and Bobby glared at him.

"Can you help me with him?" Bobby grunted, shifting. "The whole lower half of my body is asleep." Sam came over, taking his brother's weight while Bobby slid out from under him. "Let's get him on the bed," Bobby suggested. The two managed to situate Dean on his bed without waking him up. The blood stains on the floor caught Sam's eye and he motioned to them.

"When did that happen?" he asked, concerned.

"Right before he fell asleep. He's getting worse, Sam."

"Dammit. We need to finish this, Bobby. Tonight."

"I hear ya kid. I convinced Dean to go along with the exorcism. We have the ritual – now all we need is to find out what Brian is using to control the Devil. Did you ask Gary for any of his consecrated bullets?"

"Shit. _Shit_," Sam groaned, clearly frustrated. "I freakin' forgot."

"It's okay, Sam," Bobby broke in. "We'll just stop by the office when we're ready to head out." Sam nodded, though he was obviously still pissed. "What's in the bag?" Bobby asked, motioning to the bed where Sam had put the takeout.

"Oh! Yeah – I completely forgot. Dinner," Sam grinned at the look on Bobby's face when he laid eyes on the big, juicy hamburger. Sam placed the container with Dean's soup on the side table, planning to force-feed it to his brother if necessary.

"Thanks, Sam," Bobby said sincerely, "I'm starving."

The two ate in companionable silence, though both of their minds were still focused on the hunt. This was their best chance to beat the thing – if they failed now, there was no telling what would happen. Dean began to stir just after they'd both finished eating. Bobby looked at Dean, then back at Sam. "I guess we should wake him now. Only a few hours til we go into the woods and he needs to eat something."

Sam smiled, happy he had Bobby on his side in case Dean refused to eat. He went over to his brother's bed, gently shaking his shoulder. "Dean," Sam said softly. "Time to wake up." Dean rolled over, turning away from Sam. Bobby got up and approached the bed from his side.

"C'mon Sleeping Beauty," he prodded, shaking Dean's shoulder a little harder. Dean opened his eyes, looking up at Bobby. He opened his mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was a harsh, barking cough.

"Hey, hey," Sam said, helping Dean sit up as the coughing intensified. Bobby hurried off to get a glass of water, coming back and kneeling by the bed. Dean continued to cough and pant, unable to pull in enough air. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Dean quieted, falling back against his brother, exhausted.

"Drink," Bobby ordered, tilting the glass towards Dean's mouth. The cool water soothed Dean's throat and he drank greedily. Bobby pulled the glass away. "Slow down, son." He let Dean take a few more sips before placing the glass on the side table.

"You okay?" Sam asked, obviously shaken.

Dean turned to look at his brother. "Better now," he insisted, though it was obvious none of them truly believed that. "What time is it?"

"Almost 8," Sam answered, retrieving the container of soup he'd placed beside the bed. Dean eyed it distastefully. "Don't." Sam told him before he had the chance to complain. "It's chicken noodle soup, and you're going to eat it."

Dean shook his head, swallowing thickly. "Don't think that's such a good idea, Sammy."

Sam looked at him sympathetically. "I know you feel sick, Dean. But you need this – you haven't eaten in days. You need to get your strength up."

Dean wasn't swayed. He didn't want to try eating anything until he felt a million times better. He was about to say just that when Bobby spoke up.

"Your brother's right, Dean. You need to eat. We can't have you fainting out there in the woods." It was said lightly, but all three of them knew there was some truth to that statement.

Dean turned back to his brother, seeing the smug look on his face. "Ugh. Fine." He took the spoon from Sam's hand, placing the container of soup on his lap. Dean's hand shook as he tried to bring a spoonful to his mouth and he cursed in frustration when he spilled it on the bedspread.

"Do you need help?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head, obstinate. No way he was going to let his brother help him eat. He raised another spoonful towards his mouth, this time making sure to keep it as steady as possible. "Mmm," he said sarcastically, "_de_licious."

Sam snorted. "Just shut up and eat." He left Dean alone, knowing he hated to be the center of attention, and went over to inventory their supplies. Bobby joined him after a minute.

"Everything here?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Anything we could possibly use on the Jersey Devil."

Sam nodded. "Good. No room for mistakes this time around."

"Boy, who do you think you're talking to? I don't _make_ mistakes."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam returned, smiling. He looked back over at Dean who had managed to eat a few more spoonfuls of soup. "How you doing with that?" he asked him, coming over to stand by the bed. Dean held out the carton of soup, but Sam just looked at him, waiting for Dean to answer.

"No more, Sam." Dean wheedled.

"You barely ate any!" Dean gulped, swallowing hard again. Sam watched him carefully. "That going to stay down?" Dean nodded, but didn't seem so sure of it himself. He still held out the container and Sam gave in, taking it from him and putting the lid back on. "Fine. But you're going to eat once this thing is over," Sam insisted. Dean nodded, struggling to stand. Sam helped him up. "Bathroom?" he asked, putting his arm around his brother and helping him shuffle there once he'd received a quiet "yes."

Sam left Dean at the door, listening for any loud thumps or crashes that would indicate his brother had fallen. "Sam?" Dean said quietly once he'd finished. Sam returned to the bathroom, once again helping Dean walk to the bed, concerned at how much of his weight Sam was holding up. Sam lowered him onto the bed, and Dean managed to sit up, looking over at Bobby and then his brother. "So what's the plan?"

* * *

"Let's go get those magic bullets," Dean insisted once he'd heard the full extent of the plan. Even though he was trying to appear eager, he knew his energy was flagging. Dean had no idea how he was going to make it up that path they'd climbed the first time he and Sam had journeyed into Leeds Woods.

"Whoa, slow down," Sam insisted when Dean tried to stand. "We'll go talk to Gary when we're leaving. We don't even know if he has any more of those bullets anyway."

"He does," Dean said confidently. "I saw them in his office the other day when I questioned him. He had at least a dozen in there. I thought they were just normal bullets at the time, but now I'm certain those were the consecrated ones."

"Well good," Bobby spoke up. "Hopefully he'll let us borrow some."

Sam nodded. "I think he will. He wants this to stop as badly as we do." Sam looked over at his brother. "Well, _almost_ as badly."

"It's 9:00 now, boys. We'll head out around 10 – sound good?"

"Yes Bobby," they said in unison, laughing a little and looking at one another.

"I guess I better put some clothes on," Dean murmured, looking down at his sweats and dreading the effort it would take to change.

"Extra layers, Dean," Sam told him firmly, taking out some of his thicker shirts for Dean to wear. "It's gonna be cold out there."

* * *

They headed out around 9:45, mainly because both Sam and Dean were so anxious to get out there that they were driving Bobby nuts. "You pull up the car," Sam told Bobby, handing him the keys to the Impala. They'd decided to take Dean's car even though it was much more conspicuous than the one Bobby had driven. But Bobby's was a 2-door Volkswagen Beetle and Sam didn't even want to have to think about how the three of them could fit into it. Plus, the Impala had a big backseat which would come in handy if Dean continued to go downhill.

Dean and Sam headed over to the motel office, intent on getting the bullets from Gary. Sam knocked once but tried the doorknob when no one answered. "Gary?" he asked, opening the door slightly. Sam pulled out his gun, creeping inside the small office. Dean followed behind, his own gun out. "Clear," Sam whispered, flipping on the lights. The office was completely empty, and the back room where Gary slept was as well. "Where do you think he went?" Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. "No idea. I got the impression he rarely left this place. Especially at 10 o'clock at night." Dean walked over to where he'd seen the bullets earlier, keeping a hand against the wall to steady him. "No, no, no, no." Dean repeated in a steady mantra.

Sam came up behind Dean, seeing the reason for his distress. "Shit," Sam said, "they're all gone."

Dean dropped his head. "You think he went after it, Sam?"

"Dunno," he answered, though he was almost certain that that was exactly what Gary had done. He'd gone to save his brother.

* * *

The brothers walked out of the office slowly and Sam shook his head when he met Bobby's hopeful expression. "No bullets," he told him. "And Gary's gone too."

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed. "Get in, then. Let's see if we can't stop this monster before it kills again." Sam wasn't sure whether he was referring to the Jersey Devil or to Brian Hopper.

Bobby sped to the clearing and Sam was mildly impressed that he'd needed no help from the brothers in finding the spot. Dean was slumped in the backseat, eyes closed. Sam knew he was disappointed about the bullets and worried that Gary could be out in the woods, risking his life. Sam felt responsible for that – _shouldn't have told him everything_, he chastised himself.

Bobby put the car in park, hurrying around to the trunk to get the duffels. Sam turned to face Dean, putting a hand on his knee and shaking it gently. "Come on, Dean. Just a little longer. Let's end this." Dean opened one eye, looking at Sam. He nodded slightly, moving to open the door. He tumbled out onto the pavement and Sam grabbed his arm, helping him stand. "We'll take it slow, man." He slung one of Dean's arms around his neck and grabbed the duffel in his other. "Lead the way, Bobby," Sam directed, watching as Bobby started the descent up the rocky path.

Not surprisingly, the previous night's rain storm had done nothing to improve the path's condition. Bobby was having a hard time staying upright and Sam, with the added burden of most of his brother's weight, had it even worse. He knew Dean was trying his best to help out, but the path was too steep and he was far too weak. He hadn't said a word since they'd left the Impala, but then Bobby and Sam had been pretty quiet as well. They were all too focused on what was to come.

Sam felt like they had been climbing for hours and yet the path still loomed before them with no end in sight. "Sam," Dean panted, clutching onto his brother's arm. He was breathing hard, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

Sam stopped walking, looking down at his brother. Dean was pale in the dull moonlight, shivering in the cool, damp air. "You need a break, Dean?" Sam asked gently, lowering him to the ground. "We can stop," he told him, seeing that Bobby had also halted his ascent.

Dean shook his head. "Can't," he panted, "can't go any further." The words obviously pained him to say – Dean _never_ gave up. "Just leave me?" he begged, hoping Sam and Bobby would realize it was the best decision, even though he held out little hope they would agree to it.

Sam shook his head firmly, "No way." Bobby had walked down the path, crouching by Dean.

"We're not leaving you, son. So suck it up."

Dean was taken aback by Bobby's harsh order, but he only saw a look of caring reflected in his eyes and he knew the statement was not meant to be cruel. Still, Dean shook his head. "Too tired," he mumbled, closing his eyes. He felt Bobby come up beside him, taking one of his arms. Sam followed suit, grabbing the other arm and slinging it over his shoulders.

"Not a choice, boy." Bobby told him gently. He and Sam took almost all of Dean's weight, continuing their climb up the rocky path, Dean hanging limply between them. Dean huffed out a dejected sigh, frustrated by his weakness.

"Don't worry, man. We're almost there," Sam told him, praying he was right.

After another fifteen, tiring minutes, they saw an opening up ahead. "Thank God," Sam murmured. They reached the opening, panting hard.

"Let's take a breather," Bobby suggested, and Sam couldn't have agreed more. They leaned Dean up against a tree. He'd become even less responsive in the last ten minutes or so, concentrated on merely staying awake. Bobby pulled out on of their water bottles, opening it and putting it up to Dean's lips. "Drink," he ordered gently, and Dean pulled in a few grateful sips, turning his head away when he'd had enough. Bobby and Sam both took long swigs from the bottle, relishing the cool, refreshing water.

"Well that sucked," Sam snorted. He heard Dean laugh quietly from his perch against the tree and it comforted him that his brother wasn't completely out of it. After a few more minutes, Sam stood, slinging Dean's arm over his shoulder again. "Mother Leeds' house is just a little further," Sam told Bobby, and the three continued their trek. Dean was alert enough now that he was able to walk with Sam's help, so Bobby walked on ahead.

"Wow," Bobby breathed when he saw the cabin. The light from the full moon illuminated the house, casting a silvery glow upon it and increasing the eerie aura surrounding it. The three stood, staring at the house for a few minutes, listening for any sounds that would indicate someone was around. Bobby pulled out his gun and Sam did the same. "Here goes nothin'," Bobby whispered as they approached the run-down cabin.

The cabin looked somehow more inhabitable than it had the day before. The broken plates and furniture had been picked up and discarded of and cobwebs no longer hung from the ceilings. "It almost looks like someone _could_ live here," Sam observed, shivering involuntarily. The floorboards creaked as they walked across them to the back room, to the kitchen.

Sam jumped back when he saw the figure sitting at the table, a gun laid out in front of him. There were two place settings and a single candle glowed from the center of the table, flickering in the slight breeze. The figure looked up when he heard the trio enter. _Brian Hopper_, Sam confirmed, recognizing the man who had greeted them so enthusiastically in the bar. Brian grinned back at them from his seat at the table. "Welcome to my home," he said, his voiced lilting and sickeningly sweet. "Won't you have a seat? I'm expecting company any minute now."

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_Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think :)_


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: What am I doing? Sorry that took so long! And honestly - I've been working on it, I just can't seem to think of what to say. I keep going back and forth between what should and shouldn't happen, and I just want to make sure that I pick the right scenario 'cause I know I can't go back. OK so here's this chapter...I hope you like it. Give me feedback, seriously - I will listen to what you guys say. And I need ideas! Thanks for all your wonderful reviews. I'll try to write the next chapter more quickly.**

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_Sam jumped back when he saw the figure sitting at the table, a gun laid out in front of him. There were two place settings and a single candle glowed from the center of the table, flickering in the slight breeze. The figure looked up when he heard the trio enter. Brian Hopper, Sam confirmed, recognizing the man who had greeted them so enthusiastically in the bar. Brian grinned back at them from his seat at the table. "Welcome to my home," he said, his voice lilting and sickeningly sweet. "Won't you have a seat? I'm expecting company any minute now."_

Sam felt himself shudder at the calmness of Brian's voice and the creepy smile he wore on his face. "What have you done, Brian?" Sam asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Brian didn't answer immediately and Sam was about to repeat his question when he felt Dean go slack against his shoulder. He stumbled, unprepared to take all of his brother's weight. Bobby quickly came to Dean's side, helping Sam lower him to the ground.

"Dean," Sam said, lightly slapping the side of his face. "Don't do this, man," he pleaded, trying to will him to wake up. Dean didn't move and for a terrifying second Sam wasn't sure he was even breathing. But then he noticed the slow rise and fall of Dean's chest and he breathed a sigh of relief just as the bone-chilling cry of the Jersey Devil resounded through the house, echoing off the surrounding mountains. He spun around, Bobby's tense expression mirroring his own.

"He's coming for your brother," Brian spoke up then, his voice almost cheerful.

Sam stood up angrily, rushing to Brian's side and grabbing him by the shirt, knocking the gun from the table. "_You_ did this," he growled, "fix it!" He shoved Brian back onto the chair, satisfied by the look of fear that flashed in his eyes.

Brian's gaze met his. "I can't," he insisted. "Your brother's already been marked. I don't control his fate."

"The hell you don't! You're the one who sent it after us in the first place! _Why_?"

Brian smiled smugly again. "You boys should have stayed out of it. Just like all the others before you should have."

Sam was going to argue more, point out how unjustified and ridiculous it was that Brian was _killing_ people, but he knew the reasoning would be lost on Brian. The man was insane – he didn't really need a further explanation.

"Sam," Bobby said from his perch by Dean's side. Dean was regaining consciousness, blinking his eyes slowly. Sam hurried over to them, helping Bobby sit Dean up.

"What should we do, Bobby?" Sam whispered, glancing back to make sure Brian was still on the chair where he'd left him. A crack of thunder shook the house and the familiar sound of rain pattered down on the roof. _Great_, Sam thought. He looked back to Bobby who had yet to answer.

"We need to get your brother somewhere safe. And then we need to finish this."

Sam didn't like the thought of leaving Dean, especially not in the condition he was in. "We can't just leave him, Bobby. What if we can't stop the devil?"

Dean was more aware now, troubled by the futility that sounded in Sam's voice. "Sam," he croaked out, and Sam immediately turned to him.

"Hey man," Sam said gently. "Don't worry, we're almost done with all this."

Dean shook his head, frustrated. "I wanna help," he choked out, trying to sit up further even while Bobby and Sam were trying to keep him down. He pushed weakly against their hands. "Give me my gun," he demanded, and Sam almost laughed at how determined he looked, until he remembered the seriousness of the situation.

"Dean, be real. You're too sick – you can't go out there," he motioned to the woods, where the rain was pounding down harder and flashes of lightning were illuminating the sky. "Plus," Sam added, realizing something just then, "I don't think it's a coincidence that none of the attacks have happened inside the Leeds House."

"Sam," Dean pleaded one more time, hoping his brother would give in. "I won't go out there," he promised, trying his best to sound sincere. "But you and Bobby both have to. Just leave me with a gun – for protection," he added. He saw the conflict warring on Sam's face.

Bobby spoke up, "He's right, Sam. We both need to go out there and we certainly can't take him with us. And we can't bank on the possibility that the Devil can't come in here." Sam nodded reluctantly.

"Stay here," Sam said firmly. "No matter what you hear, you stay here. Alright?" He took out one of the guns but refused to hand it over until Dean agreed.

Dean nodded, reaching out for the gun and pulling it from Sam's hands. "What about Brian?" He asked, looking over to the creepy man who still sat, transfixed by the three strangers. Sam got up, nodding.

"We still have a few things we need to find out from the sonofabitch," he said and once again walked over to Brian's side, picking up the gun that he had knocked from the table. Dean watched as Sam fixed the gun on the man. He'd never seen him so angry. "How are you controlling it?" he asked, his voice icy but even. Brian just looked at him, unwilling to give up the information. Dean winced as Sam shoved Brian – hard. Bobby got up to join Sam, whether to help break Brian or to prevent Sam from doing something stupid, Dean wasn't sure.

"It's over, Brian," Bobby said, though his voice was less harsh than Sam's. "Either you stop this thing or we will, but we're ending this tonight." Brian looked more willing to talk to Bobby and Bobby motioned for Sam to take a step back.

"I didn't mean for it to go this far," Brian spoke up meekly, and Sam jumped on that.

"What did you expect to happen? You _did_ summon it, right? And you did send it after people? After out-of-towners?"

Brian looked terrified but he shook his head slightly. "I just wanted to scare them at first," he explained. "Thought maybe if they saw that the Jersey Devil wasn't something you wanted to mess with, they'd leave. But then..." Brian trailed off, only continuing after Sam nudged him with the butt of the gun. "Then the Devil started killing people. I didn't want that, I swear!"

"You idiot," Sam mumbled. "So then you _didn't_ send it after me and Dean?" Brian squirmed in the chair, seeming like he was trying to disappear. Sam raised his voice. "Did you?"

Brian's voice was barely above a whisper. "I was just protecting myself," he murmured. "You guys were investigating and..." he paused then, his voice growing more assured and smug. "You were the ones who insisted on going out to the woods in the first place." Dean looked at his brother, watching to see how he would react.

"Why my brother?" Sam asked, his voice calm. The hand gripped tight around the firearm made it clear he was anything but.

Brian shrugged. "There was no preference – I had the glass he drank from at the bar and I used that to send it after him." The fear Brian had initially exhibited seemed to be dissipating and Dean knew that was a bad sign.

Bobby spoke up again. "Don't you think you've killed enough people, son?"

Brian nodded slightly, angling himself towards Bobby. "Like you said, it will all be over soon." Brian shifted, surreptitiously grasping at something he'd had pressed between his leg and the chair. Sam noticed, but it was too late. Brian shot to his feet, knocking the gun from Sam's hands. Brian held another gun – the weapon he'd hidden under the seat, and used it to hit Bobby over the head, leaving the older hunter on the ground, momentarily stunned and helpless. Sam scrambled to retrieve his lost weapon but was stopped by Brian's chilling voice and the cocking of his gun.

"Hold it," he ordered, his gun now pointed at Sam's chest. Sam stopped, raising his arms. If he got shot now, they would all face almost certain death at the hands of the Jersey Devil. Brian kept his gun trained on Sam, looking down to make sure Bobby wasn't a threat. He backed up slowly, heading for the door located in the corner of the kitchen. "Good luck, boys," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he opened the door and stepped out into the dark night. "You're gonna need it." With that, he was gone, leaving the three hunters in stunned silence.

"Fuck!" Sam shouted, frustrated that he'd let Brian get away. He ran to help Bobby who had a hand pressed against a still-bleeding cut above his eyebrow. "You okay, Bobby?"

Bobby grunted. "I'll be fine, just a small cut." Dean had managed to stand and made his way over to them.

"Well shit," he gasped out. "What do we do now?"

Sam helped Dean over to the table, lowering him into a chair. Bobby followed slowly behind, sinking into one of the other chairs. "He's suicidal," Sam said, certain he was right. "I think he wants to die tonight at the hands of the Jersey Devil. And I think he wants to take us – and anyone else who gets in his way – with him."

Dean shivered at that. "Then we have to stop him before he has the chance."

Sam nodded. "But how? What the hell is he using to control it?"

"I'm sure whatever it is, he wouldn't keep it somewhere that we could see it," Bobby mused. "I think our first priority should just be to stop him before he does anything crazy." He chuckled at the twin incredulous looks that the brothers shot him. "Anything _else_ crazy," he amended.

"Where's Gary?" Dean asked then.

"Shit," Sam mumbled. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about him. "He's gotta be out in the woods somewhere. Hope he's okay."

Dean mumbled something in agreement. "Kay then, are you guys heading out?"

Sam made eye contact with Bobby, still unhappy with the idea of leaving his brother here alone. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" Sam asked Dean.

"For the thousandth time, _yes_!" Dean insisted. "I'm safer in here than you guys are out there."

"Not gonna pass out again, are you?" Sam asked, his lips quirking up in a slight grin.

"Get outta here," Dean drawled, punching his brother lightly on the arm. Sam helped Bobby stand and then went to retrieve their duffel bag. Bobby handed Dean a piece of paper with a Latin spell scrawled on it. "The exorcism?" Dean asked.

Bobby nodded. "Yep. Look it over – if that thing comes here, you're gonna need to recite that perfectly. Though I think Sam's onto something with the Devil being unable to come in here. You should be okay if you stay in the house."

"But don't we need the object that Brian's using to control it for the exorcism to work?"

"This is a last-ditch effort, kid." Bobby told him somberly. "Best bet is that we need the object – or we need to destroy it. But if something happens to me and Sam..." Bobby trailed off.

Dean glanced back at his brother. "Well make damn sure nothing happens then," he grunted.

Sam paused, looking up and meeting his brother's eyes. He nodded once, then walked towards the door. "C'mon, Bobby. Let's finish this."

* * *

If possible, the rain was coming down harder than it had the day before and a bone-chilling cold had set in. Sam knew this idea was risky – leaving Dean alone in the cabin and taking the Devil on themselves – but they were running very low on options.

"Where are we headed, Sam?" Bobby asked, hanging back slightly.

"I figure we head out towards the clearing," Sam reasoned. "It'll be easier to see the area from there and that's where Dean was first attacked."

They continued on in silence, both just concentrating on staying upright, shivering against the wind. They stopped when they heard a rustling in the bushes. Sam pulled out his gun, pointing in the direction of the noise. "Who's there?" he demanded, motioning for Bobby to stay back as he crept towards the bushes. "Come out or I'll shoot!" Sam shouted, readying himself to fire just as Gary Bosch came out, his own gun aimed at Sam.

"Put the gun down, Sam," Gary said calmly, and Sam knew that Gary wouldn't back down just because Sam had his own gun trained on him. Sam placed the gun down onto the sodden earth, backing away slightly, trying to appease the motel owner.

"You gonna shoot me, Gary?" Sam asked. "I thought you were the good guy. Why even bother saving us before?"

"I'm not evil, Sam. But I also can't let you kill my brother."

Bobby stepped forward. He'd put his gun down as well, knowing that Gary was clearly at the end of his rope. He didn't want to do anything to set him off. "We don't want to kill your brother, Gary," Bobby said, and Sam marveled at how effortless it was for Bobby to placate even a complete stranger. Gary seemed to calm slightly, waiting for Bobby to continue. "But we could use your help in stopping the Devil," he added. "No one has to get hurt."

Gary lowered his gun, fixing his eyes on Bobby. "How?"

"We have an exorcism," Bobby explained. "The same one used by your ancestors the first time around. But we need to get our hands on whatever Brian is using to control the Devil or the exorcism won't work. Are you sure you don't know what it could be?"

Gary stood silent, thinking. "There's this cross he owns," he started. "I haven't seen it in awhile, but I'm pretty sure it was passed down from our mother, who got it from her mother, and so on."

"This cross," Sam spoke up, anxious, "was it a necklace?"

Gary nodded slightly. "It was big for a necklace. But Brian tied a piece of twine around it and wore it for as long as I can remember. Ever since we were kids."

"That's gotta be it," Sam murmured. "We need that cross, Gary."

"He's not gonna just hand it over, Sam," Bobby pointed out, and Gary nodded in agreement.

"Well then we're just going to have to take it from him," Sam decided, even as he saw the anger flash once again in Gary's eyes. "We won't hurt him, Gary," Sam insisted, though he knew he couldn't promise that.

"Do you have the consecrated bullets?" Bobby asked Gary, trying to get his attention away from Sam. Gary pulled out a small sack, tossing it to Bobby.

"Yeah, I've got plenty." Bobby took a few bullets, then handed a few to Sam before giving the sack back to Gary.

"Do you have any idea where your brother might be now?"

"I have a few ideas. I'm guessing wherever he is, the Devil won't be far behind."

Sam nodded. "Yeah I have a feeling you're right. Lead the way, then. We'll be right behind you."

* * *

Dean gripped the edge of his chair, listening as the rain pounded hard against the roof. He flinched at every noise, every rustling of a bush or breaking of a branch. _I can't do this, _he thought, the fever only increasing his anxiety. His head pounded and he just wanted to close his eyes and drift off into blissful unconsciousness, but he had the distinct feeling that something was wrong. Sam was crazy if he really thought Dean was going to stay in this creepy house, especially while he and Bobby were out hunting the Jersey Devil with such a poorly-developed plan. Sure, he felt weaker than he could ever remember feeling, but it would all be over soon. He could last a few more hours.

Dean pushed himself to his feet, holding onto the table until he was able to get his equilibrium. He tucked the gun into the waistband of his jeans and shuffled toward the door. _Here goes nothing_, he thought, bracing himself and stepping out into the dark, freezing night.

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The trio of Sam, Bobby, and Gary hadn't been walking for long when they heard the Jersey Devil, now seemingly closer than ever. Sam looked up, expecting to see the grotesque creature darting across the sky, but he couldn't make out anything through the trees and the rain.

"He's close," Gary said. "I can feel it. We should stop here." Bobby put the duffel down and Sam looked around, carefully scanning the surroundings.

"Yeah okay," Sam agreed. "Let's get everything ready, Bobby."

Bobby pulled out the book that held the exorcism, turning to the correct page. "Thank God we don't need candles," he murmured, weighing the pages down with rocks.

"Can you even read it?" Sam asked, squinting through the rain.

"Got it memorized," Bobby said shortly. "This is for the 'just in case' scenario. Important question is, can _you _read it?"

Sam looked over at the exorcism. "Sure," he said unconvincingly. "Let's just hope I don't have to."

"What do you need me to do?" Gary asked, coming over to stand by the hunters.

"Keep an eye out," Bobby told him. "For Brian _or_ the Devil."

Gary nodded, scrutinizing the woods at the edge of the clearing.

Sam pulled out his gun with the newly-loaded consecrated bullets. "Guess all we have to do now is wait."

* * *

Dean stumbled along, following an unseen path. He had no idea where he was going, just the feeling that this was the right direction. He stayed as quiet as he could, hoping to stay undetected, though he knew that would have little effect against the Jersey Devil. It was an animal, after all – a hunter. Dean was sure it could find him with very little effort. After all, he _had _been marked.

He heard the voices before he could see the people they were coming from, but that wasn't necessary for him to determine who they were. He'd know Sam's voice anywhere, and he slowed his steps so they wouldn't hear him. _Sam was gonna be _so _pissed_.

Dean leaned against a tree, taking small, pained gasps as he tried to fill his desperate lungs with air. Definitely not his best idea, he thought, and as the gasps became shorter and more labored, he briefly considered calling out to Sam. Even though he knew that Sam would kill him when he found him, he also didn't want to suffocate out here in the middle of the woods. But just as he was certain he was about to pass out, Dean was able to get control of his breathing. He bent over against the tree, holding on desperately until he could stand.

Dean turned back to the clearing, ready to inform Sam of his presence, consequences be damned. And then he saw it – the creature was almost completely obscured in the dark underbrush, but the beady red eyes were unmistakeable. Dean couldn't believe the other three hadn't seen it. He looked to the left of the creature, unsurprised when he saw Brian standing there, a rather large cross held tightly in his hands. His lips were moving but there was no way Dean could make out what he was saying. Brian looked up, making eye contact with Dean just before the creature charged into the center of the clearing, right at Sam.

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_It's far too late for me to proof-read this correctly, so if there are any mistakes, please forgive me (my sister takes great pride in pointing them out to me). Thanks to all of you still reading! I know I said there'd be a fight in this chapter, but I was already at 3,500 words and I didn't want it to drag on. Next one, I promise. _


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Thank you guys for your reviews, as always. I hope to wrap this up before the weekend! Love you all! Enjoy :)

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There was no way Sam could avoid being hit. He was too close to the creature to get out of its path and he'd had almost no warning before it came charging at him. He didn't even hear Dean shout his name before he was knocked to the ground by the Devil, its hooves leaving deep impressions in his back. Sam rolled to the side, just barely managing to avoid being crushed as the Devil brought its powerful hooves down once again. But even as Sam breathed a sigh of relief, he knew he couldn't put up a fight for much longer. He braced himself for another attack that never came. He opened his eyes, shocked that the creature had given up so quickly. And then he saw why.

Dean staggered out from behind a tree, desperately trying to make his way to his fallen brother. And that's when Sam knew. The Jersey Devil hadn't given up – it had just found its original target. Dean's cry for Sam had alerted it to his position, and Dean was the one who had been marked in the first place. The Devil needed to finish him off.

Sam heard Bobby yelling out for his brother, raising his gun loaded with the consecrated bullets, hoping to prevent the creature from reaching Dean. But the Devil moved too quickly for him to get a shot off. Sam watched as it knocked Dean down, tearing into him like it had the first night they'd ventured into the woods. "Dean!" he cried, the pain from his wounds completely forgotten. He pushed himself up to his feet, rushing over to his brother.

But just as the Devil looked ready to finish off the kill it stopped, going eerily still. It seemed to be at attention, waiting for orders. "Hold up," Sam heard, looking over once again to the bushes and noticing Brian Hopper walking out into the clearing, the cross clutched tightly in his hands as he came to stand by Dean and the Devil.

Sam's fear for his brother was quickly translated into anger for this man – the jackass who had been responsible for the deaths of so many people. He stalked towards him, ready to strangle the man.

"Uh, uh, uh," Brian warned, holding up the cross. "One more step and your brother's dead." Sam knew he wasn't bluffing. Dean was listing, barely conscious, the new wounds bleeding heavily.

Sam was about to make another plea to Brian, a last-ditch effort to save his brother, when Gary stepped forward. "Brian," he said gently, "why are you doing this?"

Brian looked startled, surprised to see his brother standing there, but he recovered quickly. "I'm doing this for _us_, Gary. For our ancestors."

Gary took another step forward. "No, Brian. You're doing this for yourself. And you need to stop." Brian was about to protest but Gary continued. "You're _murdering_ people, Brian. There's no explanation that could make that okay."

Brian stood still, thinking. "Well," he considered, holding out the cross. Sam watched, shocked. _Was he actually giving in?_ Gary took another step, holding out his hand, but Brian quickly pulled the cross back. Gary gave him a questioning look. "Not yet," Brian explained. "I need to take care of these _outsiders_ first." He turned back to Dean, to the Devil, holding the cross and mumbling words only he could understand.

"No!" Sam yelled, watching as the Devil charged Dean with renewed interest. Dean was now completely unconscious, unable to defend himself as the jagged claws bared down on him. But instead of cutting through Dean's chest, Sam watched in shock and horror as Gary threw himself down on top of Dean, the claws digging through _his _clothing and skin.

"Gary!" Brian's yell was drowned out by Gary's agonized screams as the Devil continued its attack unchecked. The fact that it didn't seem to matter to the Devil that this wasn't his target wasn't lost on Sam and he realized how dangerous the creature could truly be if not stopped now.

"You can stop this!" Sam shouted to Brian, but Brian seemed not to hear him, frozen in place as he watched the horrific scene unfold.

"Grab the cross, Sam!" Bobby yelled over the thundering rain and Sam rushed to Brian, seeing the desired object hanging from around his neck. He grabbed it and yanked hard, feeling it give. Bobby had made his way over to Sam and took the cross from him, reciting the spell that he had committed to memory. The Jersey Devil stopped its attack on Gary once it heard the incantation, turning red, haunting eyes on Sam and Bobby.

"Faster, Bobby," Sam whispered, just as the Devil charged at them. Sam raised his gun, firing at the Devil, hitting it square in the chest. But the bullet had no effect on the creature and it continued charging. Bobby kept reciting the spell and Sam stepped forward, needing to ensure that Bobby had time to finish. "Come get me you hairy bastard," Sam growled, taking a step towards the Devil. The Jersey Devil charged at Sam, intent on killing this latest threat. Sam feigned left, getting the Devil to lunge in that direction, then turned and headed towards the woods, looking back to make sure the Devil was following.

Sam could feel the Devil on his heels as he darted through the woods, amazed that the large creature could maneuver so easily through the trees. He could barely see through the rain and the darkness, but he knew he had to keep running. Bobby would end this soon, he had confidence in that. Sam made a quick turn, knowing if he didn't change direction the Jersey Devil would catch him. One misstep, and that was all it took. He knew he was going down the second he felt his foot slip on the muddy ground. Sam threw out his hands, hoping to grab onto something, anything to keep him vertical, but he grasped only air.

He fell face first, immediately rolling over and throwing his hands up in a vain attempt to shield himself from the Jersey Devil's claws. For what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Sam braced himself for the final, crushing blow from the creature. But like every other time, he was wrong. The Devil stopped its attack, held back by an unseen force. _Bobby_, Sam concluded, allowing himself to just breathe for a second. And then the Jersey Devil let out a chilling, inhuman screech, grotesque face turned up towards the sky as it seemed to burn hellfire from every pore in its body, lighting up the forest with an eerie red glow.

It was all over in a matter of seconds, but Sam felt like he'd been lying there for hours. He couldn't believe it had worked, couldn't believe he'd been saved just in the nick of time once again. _Too close_, he thought, pulling himself to his feet, holding onto a nearby tree and gasping for breath. He winced as he felt the cuts and bruises from the Jersey Devil on his back, knowing that they would take awhile to go away. But right now he needed to get back to the others. He didn't even know if Dean was still alive.

The worry for his brother instilled him with new-found energy and he booked it back to the clearing, making it there in time to see Brian kneeling by his fallen brother's side. Sam was amazed that Gary was still alive – his chest was in ribbons and he was choking on blood.

"Why?" Brian cried out, asking his brother why he'd sacrificed his life for Dean.

"Too much," Gary choked out, "couldn't let you kill anymore." Gary's breath hitched, his chest rising one more time before halting completely. Brian's devastated cries were almost more than Sam could take and he waited a minute, collecting himself before heading over to where his own brother lay.

Bobby had Dean's head cradled in his lap and Sam could see that Dean was conscious. He didn't know what additional damage the latest attack had caused, but he knew his brother needed help and soon. Sam couldn't hear what Bobby was whispering to Dean, but he imagined Bobby was trying to calm him down. They didn't need Dean going into shock out here in the middle of the woods. Bobby looked up and met Sam's eyes. "Thank God you're okay boy. Is the Devil gone?"

Sam just nodded, crouching down by his brother's head, leaning close so he could hear him. "Sam?" Dean croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Shh," Sam said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from writhing and worsening the wounds.

"Gary?" Dean asked, needing to know if the eccentric motel owner was alright, and Sam almost wanted to lie to him. He knew Dean had grown attached to him. Sam just shook his head.

"Sorry man." Dean closed his eyes, body sagging in defeat. Sam looked up at Bobby. "We need to get him out of here." He froze when he heard a noise from behind him – the cocking of a gun. He turned to face Brian, now standing by Gary's body, clothing covered in his brother's blood. Sam rose, determined to placate the man before he could do anything crazy. "Brian," he said, reaching out his hand. "Give me the gun. It's over – the Devil is gone."

"It's not over," Brian said, his voice low and haunting. "It will never be over." He raised the gun and prepared to fire.

"Wait!" Sam shouted, but he knew it was too late. Brian put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger in one fluid motion. Sam turned away quickly, knowing he didn't want to see the outcome. But he knew he had to check on the man, make sure he couldn't be saved. He walked slowly over to where the two brothers lay, obviously dead."Aw shit," Sam murmured, closing his eyes. He was so sick of seeing death.

Sam trudged slowly back to Bobby and his brother, the look on Bobby's face mirroring his own. "Let's get out of here," Sam said, resigned. "I think I've had enough of the damn Jersey Devil."

* * *

_I'm sure all of you have had enough of the Jersey Devil too, right? Well I have...so I'm glad it's gone! More hurt Dean in the next (and hopefully last) chapter. Let me know what you think!_


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Oyyyyy. So, so sorry it's been so long. I couldn't figure out how to finish this or where to really go next. This chapter is about 6 times the length of all the other ones, so hopefully that makes up for it? Just a little? I decided to throw in a lot of hurt Dean cause I wanted it... :) Once again, thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read, and I'm sorry if there's anyone I didn't reply to - I definitely will this time around. Thanks guys, you've all been wonderful!**

* * *

Sam knelt by Bobby and his brother, helping Dean sit up. Sam knew Dean's chest had to be a mess, but he was also concerned by the large, still-bleeding gash on Dean's forehead. "How bad is he?" Sam asked Bobby, choosing to ignore the annoyed look Dean shot him and the mumbled "_He's_ right here."

Bobby shook his head. "I can't tell – it's too dark for me to see but I think the Devil got him good this time. Let's just get out of here, get him back to the motel."

Sam nodded, turning to Dean. "You think you can stand?"

"Yeah," Dean grunted. "Help me up." Both Bobby and Sam had to give Dean a hand standing and it took him a few more minutes after that before he was ready to move. Once his panting breaths had slowed down and he seemed steadier on his feet, the three made their way slowly across the muddy field, Sam doing his best to shield his brother from the grizzly sight of Brian's and Gary's bodies. They'd call in an anonymous tip in the morning – hopefully the final casualties of the Jersey Devil for quite awhile.

The forest had grown eerily quiet, the only sound the soft patter of the rain against the trees and Dean's pain-filled gasps as they continued their trek. Dean gripped Sam's shoulder tightly, trying his best to keep moving, to stay conscious. Sam didn't say anything and for that he was grateful. Dean knew his brother was worried but all he wanted to concentrate on right now was getting somewhere warm and dry. His chest was on fire, the latest gashes much deeper than the previous ones and he could feel a sharp pain on his left side, undoubtedly from broken or cracked ribs. In addition to all that, he was certain he had a concussion. The forest was spinning around him and his head was pounding.

"Almost there," Dean heard Bobby say aloud, though the statement didn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular and Dean assumed he was trying to reassure himself as much as he was the boys. As it turned out, though, he wasn't wrong, and after a few more minutes they found themselves in front of the narrow, steep path leading out of the woods.

"Sam," Dean whispered. The long walk had taken its toll on him. He was freezing and the blood loss was making him feel woozy. There was no way he was making it down this path.

"I know," Sam responded. "We'll take it slow, Dean. We don't have a choice – this is the only way out."

"I'll go first," Bobby volunteered, gently removing Dean's arm from around his shoulder and walking to the edge of the path. "Sam, give me your bag." Sam handed it over without question, knowing he'd probably need both arms free in case Dean passed out. Bobby looked over at Dean who was hanging limply against Sam's shoulder. "Almost done, boy," he said, nodding once and then turning back to the path. "If you two fall on me, I'll kill ya."

Sam smiled as he watched Bobby begin the descent. The path looked treacherous, to say the least, and he had a feeling they'd all lose their footing at least once on the trip down, probably multiple times. Bobby grabbed onto trees for support, sliding as the mud gave way under his feet. He turned back to the boys, signaling that they should follow.

"Okay bro," Sam said, "just lean on me."

The first half of the descent was easier than Sam had anticipated. Dean was obviously trying his hardest to be able to walk on his own and it made it easier for Sam to support him. Sam could hear his brother's breathing getting shallower, his breaths coming in short pants and he pulled to a halt, crouching down in front of Dean. "Deep breaths, Dean," Sam instructed, worried that Dean didn't seem to be capable of complying.

"Ca...n't," Dean choked out, his voice hitching on the word, his eyes conveying the panic he was experiencing at the inability to catch his breath.

"Yes you can," Sam insisted. Bobby had also stopped when he realized the boys were no longer following and he doubled back, coming to stand by Sam, immediately seeing what the problem was.

Dean was on the verge of hyperventilating, the fear causing his breathing to speed up even more. He took one last gasping breath before his eyes rolled back and he slumped forward, Sam just barely managing to catch him before he hit the ground.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, shifting his brother's weight to get a better look at him. Bobby had crouched down next to Sam and was checking Dean's pulse, satisfied that it was strong, if a bit fast. He then turned to Dean's chest, pulling back the layers of clothing to examine the latest wounds."Punctured lung?" Sam asked Bobby nervously.

Bobby shook his head after a few seconds. "I don't think so, Sam. I think he's just exhausted – and terrified. He's been through a lot in the last week." Sam looked back down at his brother, noticing that his breathing had slowed slightly, becoming steadier than it had been when he was conscious. "He still has some pretty serious injuries though," Bobby pointed out. "And the fever seems to have gone up. We need to get him out of here."

Sam nodded, helping to shift some of Dean's weight onto Bobby's shoulder. They both managed to stand with Dean hanging limply between them. "Slow and steady," Bobby instructed, and they continued their descent.

* * *

Dean came to when they had almost reached the bottom of the path, and Sam was thankful he had been out of it for most of the hike down. The bottom half of the path was far more treacherous than the top half had been and Sam could only imagine how much pain Dean would have been in had he been conscious.

For how weak Dean was, he put up a surprising fight when he awoke, trying to swing at Bobby, then Sam, confused and disoriented. It took a considerable effort on both their parts to calm him down and it was only by some miracle that they didn't tumble the rest of the way to the bottom of the path.

"Dean," Sam said calmly, patiently once Dean had given in. "It's okay, you're alright. We're just trying to get back to the car, remember?" Dean nodded slightly, though Sam wasn't sure he truly did remember. "Just a little further, Dean," he said encouragingly, moving forward with Bobby's help, the two of them still carrying a majority of Dean's weight.

The Impala seemed illuminated in the dim moon light, a beacon in the night. Sam let out a relieved sigh and Bobby echoed his sentiment. "There's m' baby," Dean murmured and Sam chuckled at that. Dean didn't put up a fight when they ushered him into the back seat, instead collapsing against the comfort and familiarity of the car's soft leather, seemingly unconcerned that he was getting dirt and blood all over the car's interior.

"How you doing boy?" Bobby asked once he and Sam had stowed the weapons and had climbed into the car. Dean was a mess – his whole body covered in dirt and blood and he was shivering relentlessly. He gave Bobby a weak thumb's up before closing his eyes, knowing that he couldn't fool the older hunter. "Yeah I'm sure," Bobby grunted, turning forwards again as Sam started the car.

Dean was asleep – or passed out – by the time they reached the motel, and Bobby and Sam went ahead and prepared the room before attempting to extricate him from the car. Sam looked at Bobby expectantly, but Bobby held up his hands, backing away. "I don't think so, Sam. There's only room for one of us to pull him out of the car and I'm not gonna be the one he swings at."

Sam smirked, nodding. He hadn't _actually_ expected Bobby to volunteer for the job, but it was worth a try. "Yeah, yeah," he said, reaching in to shake his brother. Unsurprisingly, Dean reacted the way he had in the woods, but Sam was ready and easily dodged the first swing. Dean seemed to be more aware of the situation this time around and he allowed Sam to help him from the car, shaking him off once he was vertical.

"I'm fine, Sam. Get off," Dean insisted, though the shaky steps he took towards the motel room belied the reality of the situation, and Sam made sure to stay close in case he fell.

Dean stopped at the door of the motel room as a coughing fit overtook him, stealing his breath. He put his hand to his chest, feeling the give in the ribs on his left side. "Perfect," he murmured quietly, finally straightening up once the coughing had died down. "I'm _fine_, Sam," he repeated before Sam even had the chance to ask, and he smirked when he heard Sam's pissy response.

They set Dean up on the bed closest to the bathroom, attempting to strip him of his torn and stained clothing, Dean fighting against them the whole time. "Personal space, dude," Dean muttered when Sam had tried to get Dean's jeans off.

"Well then _you_ take them off, Dean. They're soaking wet and you're shivering."

Dean grunted, struggling to get out of the soaked denim, having a very difficult time as every attempt seemed to send jolts of pain through his body. After five minutes of what ended up being nothing more than ineffectual wriggling, he looked up at Sam pathetically, refusing to give in and ask for help.

"You're _really_ something," Sam huffed, grabbing a hold of Dean's jeans and managing to get them off with remarkable ease, flashing Dean a triumphant smile.

"Shut up," Dean mumbled under his breath, closing his eyes and trying to take a deep breath, wheezing on the exhale. Sam saw the grimace on Dean's face and the gravity of the situation immediately returned to him.

"Dean," Sam said, shaking him slightly when he didn't open his eyes. "We need to get your shirt off, see how bad the cuts are." Dean nodded but didn't attempt to help him. Bobby came to the other side of the bed, helping Dean sit up while Sam lifted the edges of the shirt, pulling them up and over his brother's head. "Shit," Sam murmured when they'd gotten off Dean's shirt. The cuts were _much_ worse than he had anticipated. They weren't just deeper, but they spanned almost the entire length of Dean's chest. He reached out to probe the wounds, worried that the dirt and grime imbedded in the cuts had already caused infection to set in. It would certainly explain Dean's high fever.

"Sam," Dean's pain-filled cry stopped Sam and he pulled back his hand. Dean looked up at him, his eyes bleary and unfocused.

"Dean," Sam responded, reaching a hand up to feel Dean's forehead, frowning at how much hotter he felt. Dean shook his head weakly, trying to get Sam's hand off his head, and that somehow managed to calm Sam a little.

"Water?" Dean croaked out, opening his mouth slightly. Bobby appeared with a glass and helped Dean lean forward.

"Small sips," Bobby instructed when Dean tried to drink greedily from the glass. He handed Dean a few painkillers and forced him to down them with the last of the water.

"We need to clean these wounds, man," Sam said gently once Dean had finished drinking. "It's gonna hurt." Dean nodded in understanding, closing his eyes again. Bobby had brought over a bowl of lukewarm water and some washcloths. "These look bad, Bobby," Sam said quietly.

"I know," Bobby answered. "I didn't want to worry you out in the woods. There was nothing we could do out there. He's gonna be okay," Bobby added when he Saw the concern on Sam's face.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, though his voice hitched slightly on the word. "He's always okay."

Sam and Bobby got started cleaning out the wounds, examining them to see whether stitches were required. All of the cuts looked bad, but luckily only two were still bleeding rather steadily. Even so, Sam had a difficult time trying to do an adequate stitch job, struggling to keep a steady hand while Dean shifted and writhed on the bed. Though the stitches weren't pretty, they did the job, and Sam and Bobby packed them with antibiotic ointment in order to protect against further infection. Dean remained as stoic as he could, but he was clearly in pain, unable to stop himself from whimpering from time to time when the pain got the best of him. He was no longer making snarky comments or attempting to fight their ministrations and that worried Sam almost as much as the bloody cuts did.

But the cuts weren't the only wounds that the Jersey Devil had inflicted on Dean. Once Bobby and Sam had cleared away the dirt and the blood, they were able to see clearly-defined bruises where the Devil had trampled Dean. "Bobby," Sam murmured when he saw the deep bruising, "shit."

"Yeah," Bobby agreed. "I didn't expect that." Bobby palpated Dean's chest gently, feeling for any depressed areas which would indicate broken or cracked ribs. He found one – just above Dean's belly button on the left side of his stomach. Dean's eyes shot open when Bobby pressed down, and he cried out in shock and pain, gasping for breath just as he had in the woods.

Sam immediately tried to calm him, putting a steadying hand behind his back and grasping his other hand firmly. "Breathe, Dean," he instructed, a feeling of deja vu washing over him. But this time Dean didn't hyperventilate and he managed to calm down considerably.

"I think he broke a few on the left side," Bobby told Sam, "but we can't wrap them, not with those cuts." Sam agreed, and Bobby went to get ice from the vending area outside the room. Sam focused on cleaning out the head wound while Bobby was gone, thankful that stitches weren't necessary. Sam cleaned the cut with alcohol and placed a butterfly bandage over it. Dean came to just as he'd finished.

"Sam," Dean cried out weakly again, and Sam bent down to hear him better. "We...get...him?" he sputtered, his breath still slightly ragged.

"Yeah, Dean, we got him," Sam told him, worried that Dean didn't seem to remember. He couldn't tell if it was the fever or concussion, but either way Sam was concerned. Bobby came back into the room, carrying a bucket of ice and setting it down on the nightstand.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked, noticing that Dean had closed his eyes again.

"Seems confused," Sam told him worriedly. "I think he might have a concussion."

"Damn," Bobby said softly. "Kid can't catch any breaks, can he?" Sam huffed out something between a laugh and a sob, shaking his head. "You got a thermometer?" Bobby asked after a minute.

"Yeah, should be in the first-aid kit," Sam answered, rifling through the fully-stocked kit, pulling out the desired instrument and handing it to Bobby.

Bobby turned back to Dean, intending to wake him up and was surprised to see Dean's eyes open, blinking tiredly. "Need to check your temp, kid," Bobby said gently, and Dean opened his mouth slightly, letting Bobby put the thermometer in. "102.7," he said grimly when it finally beeped.

"Bobby," Sam said quietly, not wanting Dean to hear. "You don't think the Jersey Devil could still be causing the fever, do you? We exorcised it."

"But we don't know if the victims _can_ be cured, Sam," Bobby pointed out. "No one else survived."

"Dammit!" Sam shouted, frustrated. Dean looked over at him, scooting up against the headboard with Bobby's assistance. Sam returned to the bed, pulling up the chair and sinking into it.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean told him, "Doesn't feel like before." He paused, putting a hand to his still-aching head. "Don't think it's the Devil."

"But we can't be _sure_, Dean," Sam said, his voice still raised, though he didn't miss the fact that Dean didn't seem at all confused anymore. "What if it is? What if that sonofabitch isn't done?"

"Sam," Bobby said, his voice considerably lower in deference to Dean's obvious discomfort from the head wound. "You're right – we _can't_ be sure. So there's no point in worrying over something we won't be able to determine. We'll treat his injuries best we can, and if he takes a turn for the worse, we'll deal with it then."

"What he said," Dean agreed quietly. "And lower your voice, Sammy."

"Sorry," Sam apologized, looking guilty. "Okay then, you're stitched, dosed, and cleaned up. Time to work on that fever, then." Dean groaned, slinking back down on the bed, his shivering increasing as Bobby and Sam placed bags of ice around him. "Sleep, Dean," Sam ordered gently. "We're gonna wake you up soon for concussion checks anyway."

Dean closed his eyes and Sam heard him grumble something that sounded distinctly like "fuck you, Sam."

"What was that, Dean?" Sam asked, amused.

"Said 'thank you, Sam,'" Dean answered innocently.

Sam laughed, "Yeah sure. Get some rest." He nudged Dean's arm, adding a quiet "pain in the ass," as an afterthought. Once he was sure Dean was sleeping and as comfortable as he could get, he turned to Bobby. "Your turn, Bobby. I know you haven't slept in more than a day. I'll be fine watching him tonight. Get some rest."

Bobby was going to protest, but he knew Sam was right. Plus, they didn't need two people to wait around watching Dean sleep. "Yeah okay," he agreed reluctantly. "But wake me up if he gets worse." Sam assured him he would and Bobby climbed into the other bed, falling asleep the second his head touched the pillows.

Sam got up, turned off the lights and then returned to Dean's side. Though Sam could see he was sleeping, it didn't seem to be a sound sleep at all. Dean's whole body was quaking with shivers and he would flinch every few minutes, letting out involuntary gasps of pain. Sam decided to wake him before the two hours were up, when it seemed like Dean was in genuine pain. He shook his brother's shoulder gently, trying his best not to startle him too much and cause Dean to hurt himself further.

Dean woke up rather quickly – he hadn't been in a deep sleep to begin with. Sam asked him the usual post-concussion questions, satisfied with the answers he received, but not happy with the trouble Dean seemed to be having with breathing. _Those damn ribs_, he thought grimly. "How bad's the pain, Dean?"

Dean was breathing hard again, the wheezes more pronounced than before. "Not...good," Dean answered, and Sam assumed that was one of the main reasons for the shallow breaths.

"Okay, I know it hurts, but you need to take deeper breaths, Dean. I don't want you fainting again."

Dean glared at him. "Didn't...faint."

"Like a girl."

Dean ignored that comment, trying his best to do as Sam instructed. "Ahh," he cried out as his head wound decided to make itself known.

"Dean?" Sam asked, concern ratcheting up a notch.

"My head," Dean answered shortly, pressing his fingers into his temples, trying to force the pain away.

Sam left him for a second, grabbing the painkillers from the kit and a bottle of water. "Dean," he shook his brother's arm gently. Dean opened one eye to glare at him, eyeing the water and pills and swallowing thickly.

"Feel sick," he said, shaking his head slightly.

Sam looked sympathetic. "If you get sick, then I'll figure out something else, but we might as well try the painkillers." Dean seemed steadfast so Sam went for his fail safe, adding a quiet "please," to back up the pleading look he was giving him. "Seriously, Dean. I'm sick of seeing you in pain."

Dean looked unconvinced but he held out his hand for the pills, popping them into his mouth and taking a swig of the water Sam handed him. "Why's the bed all wet?" Dean asked drowsily after a few minutes had passed, the pills starting to take effect.

Sam seemed confused, then remembered the ice he and Bobby had used to try and cool Dean down. "Oh!" he shouted, jumping up. "The ice packs," he said picking one up. "Shit."

Dean squirmed on the bed, knocking the other ice packs to the ground. "'S cold, Sam."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "Gonna have to change the sheets." He went over to the closet, pulled out a spare set of sheets and set them on the nightstand so he could help Dean up. Dean was sitting on the bed, feet on the floor and his head bent low, nearly touching his chest. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his busted ribs and his breathing was labored. Sam crouched down in front of him. "C'mon, man. Let's get this over with."

Dean nodded, reaching a hand out as Sam bent to wrap Dean's arm around his shoulder, standing slowly to allow Dean to adjust to being vertical. They shuffled over to the chair Sam had abandoned and Sam lowered his brother down very carefully. Even so, Dean gasped in pain as his ribs shifted. "Sorry bro," Sam murmured.

"'S'okay," Dean grunted in reply.

Sam worked quickly, seeing Dean's head bobbing as he struggled to stay awake. He quickly pulled off the damp sheets, replacing them with the dry ones and tucking the edges in tight. "Ready to go back to bed?" Sam asked.

Dean pushed up off the chair without Sam's help, stumbling to the bed and collapsing, then curling in on himself at the pain the movement caused. Sam watched him, amused. "Really? I would have helped you."

Dean was still hunched over, cradling his ribs, but he snorted out a laugh. "I'm not a baby, Sam."

Sam just shook his head at his idiotic brother, picking up the damp sheets and piling them in the corner of the room. He returned just as Dean was attempting to straighten out as best he could. Sam leaned forward to feel Dean's forehead, thankful that the fever didn't seem to have gone up. "Try and get some more sleep," Sam told him.

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine, Dean. Bobby and I will switch in a little while."

That seemed to be a sufficient enough answer for Dean and he was soon drifting off to sleep again, aided by the painkillers he had taken earlier. Sam watched him for a little, but the stillness of the night combined with the utterly pitch-dark room were making it hard for him to keep his eyes open. He pulled out his phone and set an alarm for one hour just in case he happened to fall asleep by accident.

The alarm proved unnecessary – though Sam's eyes would drift shut on occasion, every little sound had him jolting awake. Dean seemed calmer than he had before, his sleeping no longer punctuated by frequent groans of pain and Sam had decided to forgo getting more ice packs, seeing as how the last ones hadn't done much more than soak Dean's sheets. It could have been minutes or hours later when Dean started to stir again, but Sam was still wide awake and immediately by his brother's side.

"Hey Dean, how you feeling?" Sam asked, watching as Dean opened his eyes, looking once at Sam and then shutting them tightly. "Dean?" Sam asked again, concerned that his brother hadn't answered.

Dean rolled onto his uninjured side, facing Sam and swallowing hard. "Sammy," he groaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't...feel good," he choked out, putting a hand to his mouth as he hiccoughed slightly.

"It's okay man, I'm here," Sam told him, putting an arm underneath his brother's armpit, managing to get him into a sitting position. Sam had placed the trash can by Dean's bed earlier just in case and he helped him lean over it. Dean groaned, clutching at his ribs, panting heavily as the nausea and dizziness increased with the change in position. He spit into the can as water flooded his mouth, trying his best not to be sick, knowing how much that would hurt his busted ribs.

"Sam," he groaned again, didn't know what his brother could do to help him.

"Breathe, Dean," Sam told him, and Dean huffed out a frustrated breath, ended up gagging instead. He groaned one more time before emptying his stomach into the receptacle. Sam kept his arm wrapped tightly around Dean's back, holding him steady as he continued to heave.

The pain was nearly unbearable and Dean cried out as his broken ribs shifted and the cuts on his chest pulled. By the time his stomach calmed, Dean was shaking hard against Sam's arm. Sam looked over to Bobby's bed, seeing the older hunter stir but remain asleep.

"Dean," Sam whispered quietly. Dean didn't answer but Sam could hear his teeth chattering as his body continued to quake against Sam. Sam reached a hand out, palming Dean's forehead. Instead of the fever that had burned so high earlier in the night, Dean was now clammy, cold sweat beading across his forehead. "Dean," Sam said again, beginning to panic at his brother's unresponsiveness. Dean had closed his eyes tightly and his skin looked gray. "_Shit_," Sam muttered, recognizing the signs of shock. He placed his fingers against Dean's carotid, worry increasing when he felt the weak but rapid pulse. "No, no, no. Don't do this Dean," Sam pleaded. "Bobby!" Sam called out, knowing he needed the older hunter's help.

Bobby was up almost immediately, needing just a moment to take in the situation. "What's going on?" he barked out, rounding the other bed to come stand near the brothers.

"Think he's going into shock. Pulse is weak, skin is clammy, and he's unresponsive."

"Balls," Bobby muttered and Sam could see how worried he was. "Let's get him on the floor, Sam." Bobby bent down, putting an arm around Dean's back.

"Watch his ribs, Bobby," Sam warned, standing up slowly with Dean's arm draped over his shoulder. The two moved carefully, trying to prevent further injury, and gently placed Dean so he was lying flat on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Bobby knelt by Dean's head, trying to get him to respond, realizing that Sam didn't seem to know what to do to help. "Bring me some pillows," he told Sam. Sam grabbed all the pillows off the bed returning to Dean's side, again waiting for Bobby's orders. Sam knew how to deal with shock – John Winchester had made sure his sons knew the signs, how to prevent it and how to remedy it – but it was just too much for him to remember right now and Bobby's instructions were both welcome and necessary. "Okay let's get his feet elevated," Bobby told him, lifting up Dean's legs while Sam slid the pillows underneath them. "Feet above the heart," Bobby reminded him and Sam nodded, piling more and more pillows on top.

Sam pulled one of the blankets off the bed, spreading it over Dean's still-shaking form. "Salt water, right?" Sam asked, uncapping one of the water bottles and putting a few pinches of rock salt in it, bringing it back to Bobby who was gently slapping Dean's face, trying to get him to come around.

"Good job," Bobby told him, taking the bottle from Sam. He lifted Dean's head slightly, frowning at Dean's unfocused, glassy eyes. "C'mon son," he encouraged Dean, putting the bottle up to his mouth and tipping it back. Water trickled into Dean's mouth and he sputtered, spitting out the salty liquid.

"Dean, you need to drink," Sam said from his perch at the other side of Dean's head.

Dean seemed aware of his brother's presence, his dull eyes reflecting recognition, even if he didn't acknowledge him. Bobby tipped the bottle back again, holding Dean's mouth closed so he couldn't spit it out this time. Dean swallowed the water, grimacing at the taste and coughing a little.

"S...a...m," Dean whispered, and Sam was just happy that Dean was talking, even if he still looked and sounded awful.

"Hey man," Sam answered, frowning when he saw Dean's throat muscles working, realizing the water wasn't going to stay down. "Shit, Bobby turn him." Sam supported Dean's head while Bobby did his best to turn him without causing further pain. Dean heaved weakly, vomiting water and bile onto the rug, groaning in misery. "Shhh," Sam comforted, "almost over," he promised.

"No...more," Dean pleaded, and Sam assumed he meant the salt water.

"You're going into shock, Dean. You need it," Sam insisted.

Dean shook his head weakly. "Don't wanna puke again. Hurts."

Sam turned to Bobby. "Is there anything else we can do?"

Bobby looked at Dean, concern evident on his face. "He should be in a hospital, Sam. But Leed's Point doesn't have one and I think the trip out of here would only make him worse. He's in too much pain as it is."

Sam nodded, even more scared than he'd been before. "He threw up the painkillers I gave him earlier."

Bobby sighed. "The vomiting is only aggravating the chest injuries, so no more water or pills. I may have some morphine in my kit in the car. Stay with him, make sure his breathing is okay. I'll be right back."

Sam helped Dean roll onto his back again. "How's the pain, bro?"

"Awesome," Dean bit out. He was breathing slightly faster than normal, but Sam didn't think it was the biggest concern right now and he was just happy Dean was responding. "What's goin' on? Where's Bobby?" Dean slurred.

"Went to get morphine – help with the pain. Be honest, how do you feel?" Dean closed his eyes, humming softly. "Dean?"

"Dizzy," he finally admitted. "Chest hurts."

Sam nodded. He'd expected that, but to actually hear Dean say it was worrying. Still, the constant shivering seemed to have subsided a little and the fact that Dean was talking to him, was aware – to an extent – was definitely a good sign. "Bobby and I were worried about shock. From the pain," he explained. "Hopefully the morphine will help."

Dean didn't respond but Sam saw him move his head slightly in a nod. Sam turned his attention to Bobby when he came bustling in, his own med kit in hand. "Got the morphine," he said triumphantly.

Bobby was well-practiced in first aid and injected the morphine without even batting an eye. Dean was drifting again, more comfortable now. Sam felt for his pulse, noting it was more steady now, slower. "Better?" he asked his brother.

"Mmhm."

"Okay, we're gonna keep you down on the floor for a little, alright?" Bobby asked, putting away the syringe and pulling the blanket back over Dean. "Sam's gonna get some sleep, but just ask me if you need anything."

"Good make sure...sleeps," Dean murmured as he fell asleep.

"You heard him, Sam," Bobby said, turning to the younger brother. "Get some sleep, kid."

"In a little, I swear. Just wanna make sure he's okay."

"His pulse is slower and his color's better. He's barely shivering anymore. You did good, Sam, but your body needs rest too. I'll take care of him."

Sam nodded, knowing he wouldn't stand a chance arguing with Bobby now anyway. "Okay. Wake me if...just wake me?"

"Of course."

"Kay, good. Thanks Bobby. For everything."

"Don't mention it, kid. Now get to bed."

* * *

Sam didn't wake until sunlight was streaming through the openings in the curtains, flickering on the carpet. He lay there for several minutes, trying to figure out why the sound of birds in the distance seemed so out-of-place, finally realizing that this was the first time that he'd heard them since arriving at Leed's Point.

Bobby's gruff "Hey kid," pulled him back into the present, and he sat quickly, anxious to see how his brother was doing. Dean no longer lay on the floor, instead curled up in the bed, blankets piled high on his still-sleeping form. "He woke up a few hours ago," Bobby explained. "Seemed so much better I didn't think it would hurt to try and get him comfortable." Sam nodded, the only piece of that sentence that really stuck with him was the "so much better" part.

Dean woke up after another hour, accepting the painkillers and water that Sam offered. "Thanks," he said, once the pain had dialed back a little. "What happened last night?"

"You don't remember?" Sam asked, concerned that maybe Dean hadn't improved as much as they had thought.

Dean blinked, trying to recall. "I remember pain...a lot. Not much else."

"That's probably for the best. It got scary, man." Dean grunted, pushing himself up against the headboard, wincing at the pull in his ribs. Sam offered him a hand. "You really feel better?"

"Still hurts like hell. But yeah, I feel better."

"Great!" Sam said a little too loudly, smiling for what felt like the first time in a week.

* * *

Dean continued to heal slowly but steadily, with no more complications or setbacks. Bobby and Sam returned to the woods, to the site of the final showdown, searching for any evidence of the Jersey Devil. Thankfully, they found none. "So one hundred years?" Sam asked Bobby on their trek out of the forest.

"Hopefully. I'll let other hunters know what we did in case it comes back before then."

Sam agreed, silently vowing that this was the last time they would be here, in Leeds Woods, regardless of whether or not the devil returned. "Sounds good, Bobby."

Bobby left a few days later, headed south to help out one of his friends on a poltergeist situation in Louisiana, but Sam refused to leave the town until he was satisfied Dean was well-enough to travel. Even then, Sam insisted on driving, threatening Dean with another week in the Devil's Lair motel unless he relinquished the keys. Sam sat in the driver's seat, holding out his hand expectantly.

"This is ridiculous, Sam. I'm _fine_. I can drive a damn car."

"Your ribs are still broken. You remember how rough the ride up here was – you really think you can handle the Impala in your condition?"

"_Yes_," Dean fumed, but gave up the argument because he knew Sam had a point. And he didn't want to risk hurting his baby if he lost control. He slid into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut and dropping the keys into Sam's hand. "You so much as put a scratch on her, you're dead."

Sam laughed, turning the key in the ignition. "Whatever."

"I'm serious!" Dean looked back at the motel room and the town which somehow seemed far less ominous than it had when they'd arrived. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. "Can't wait to get away from here. If I never hear or see another thing about the Devil again, I'll die a happy man."

"Oh yeah?" Sam asked, amused. He took the desired cassette out of Dean's box of tapes and pushed it into the tape slot, putting the car in drive and pulling onto the road. Dean had closed his eyes, trying to sleep through the rough ride out. He opened an eye when he heard the first chords of the Rolling Stones' Sympathy for the Devil playing out over the speakers, Sam's off-tune voice happily singing along.

"Please allow me to introduce myself  
I'm a man of wealth and taste  
I've been around for a long, long year  
Stole many a man's soul and faith."

"Sam," Dean warned.

Sam ignored him, turning up the volume and raising his voice.

"Pleased to meet you  
Hope you guessed my name."

"Sam!" Dean tried again. "Seriously?" He asked when Sam stopped singing and looked at him, flashing a smile. "Change it." Sam shook his head. "Okay, then _I'll_ change it," he declared, hand reaching out to the dials. But Sam stopped him before he got the chance.

"Driver picks the music, Dean," Sam said, smiling at the incredulous look Dean shot him.

"Oh for the love of..."

"_Shotgun_ shuts his cake hole." Dean glared at him, but Sam could see his lips twitching upwards in amusement and he nodded in defeat.

"Just _drive_, Mick Jagger. We better be far away from Jersey by the time I wake up."

Sam nodded, pressing down harder on the gas as he sped along the roads, leaving the town of Leeds Point behind for good.

At the edge of the woods, a pair of beady red eyes stared out, hidden in the dense underbrush of the forest. The creature watched, waiting in silence. Once the sleek, black car had passed by, it emerged from its crouch, stretching out its massive wings and making one giant push towards the sky, emitting a chilling, inhuman cry as it circled its woods.

In the Impala, Dean stirred awake, certain he had heard the familiar cry of the Jersey Devil. "Did you hear something?" he asked Sam, looking over at his brother.

Sam shook his head, though to be fair he hadn't really been paying attention. "Nah, it's probably just your imagination."

Dean hesitated, still unconvinced. "You're positive we got it, right?"

"_Yes_, Dean. Bobby and I even went back to look. No Jersey Devil. Now go to sleep."

"Kay," Dean agreed, putting his head against the glass and looking out at the clear-blue sky. As his eyes were drifting shut, he could have sworn he saw a large, birdlike creature circling the skies, but he shook it off again. _Just my imagination_, he repeated, closing his eyes and falling asleep to the soft hum of the Impala's engine as it took them far away from the Jersey woods.

* * *

A/N 2:  
Here's my reasoning on the ending. I WAS just gonna have the thing with Sam and Dean in the car with the Rolling Stones song, but A) it seemed too abrupt and B) I really didn't want the Jersey Devil to just be gone. Where would the fun be in that? I had said previously in the story that even though the JD was still spotted after the exorcism, no one was really killed for 100 years...so technically the exorcism DID work, and we can assume that there won't be anymore problems in Leed's Point for quite awhile. But I didn't want it to just be gone, cause that kinda would take away the mystique from Jersey, and what else do we have besides Jersey Shore and Real Housewives of NJ? So there it is. I hope you enjoyed the story, all 19 chapters of it. Thank you so much for reading and I would LOVE to hear what you think. I signed up for 2 challenges in the hoodie time comment meme so you'll be seeing more of me rather soon. OK good night all!


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